silence is star-like
by closingdoors
Summary: AU from season 4, in which Castle doesn't let Beckett run from him over the summer she recovers from the shooting. "She is sand slipping through your fingers. You need to hold on for one moment more." COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

You are like night, calmed, constellated.  
Your silence is star-like, as distant, as true.  
I like you calm, as if you were absent:  
distant and saddened, as if you were dead.  
- Pablo Neruda

* * *

**Disclaimer: **Maybe my parents will buy me the rights to Castle for my birthday.

* * *

You are tired of their pitying looks.

Ryan and Esposito. Lanie. Your Mother. Your own daughter.

They all watch you as though you are about to break, especially once Captain Gates forces you to leave the precinct. You've nothing left to distract yourself from her absence, so you spend your time watching the phone that doesn't call, staring at the door that never opens. In the silence you think you may already be broken.

Your mother understands. _Chin up, kiddo. _Pours you another glass of brandy and watches as you down it in one, throat burning but finally feeling something other than overwhelming emptiness.

Ryan and Esposito update you on her case, but the leads run cold. Lanie pats your hand and tells you that she'll call you if anything comes up, but nothing ever does. You stare at the blank word document on your laptop and realize that she is slipping away. Two months after the words _I Love You _tumble from your lips and she's disappeared.

You have no hold on her. You are not her boyfriend. You're not even her partner- she said it was over. Whatever there was between you. Gone. Spilled away like the ink in your veins.

So when you ask Lanie for the address to her father's cabin, you have absolutely no idea what you are doing.

* * *

It's a long drive. Or maybe it isn't. Maybe your mind is just too much chaos to understand how time passes.

It's foolish but in this coat you can still smell her. Cherries. Ash. Familiarity. From the bombing in her apartment, the way your jacket had been the only thing to preserve her modesty, protect her, all tired limbs and eyes. If you close your eyes she is still here.

Open your eyes, and here you are. Jim's cabin sits before you, overlooking a fishing lake, and there she is on the porch, watching the way the water desperately catches the last rays of the afternoon sun before the darkness swallows everything whole.

For a moment, you are still, and so is your heart, your hands tightening on the wheel, lungs empty.

She is right there. If you get out, you can walk five paces and have her in your arms. Smell her. Tell her you love her, that you forgive her for being afraid. You are too, most days.

It doesn't seem real. In your mind, it doesn't seem real at all. Real is the blood that sometimes you can still see on your hands. Real are the ghosts in her eyes as she lies in a hospital bed.

Go to her. It will make her real. She is real. Alive.

You close the car door softly so that she doesn't hear. So that she doesn't see and so that she cannot run. Perhaps it is cruel of you to do so: Corner her like some wild animal that ought to be tamed. But you don't think you could stand one more day on this Earth with her running all the time. Your feet are tired and your body aches for rest. You just need something to revive you, however small it may be.

Her chin is resting in her hands, and you can see how delicate and frail she is by the way she hunches in on herself, her feet a pallid white against the wood of the porch step. Healthier than you remember her. More damaged than she ought to be.

As you are just one foot away, she hears your soft footfalls, tensing. You don't know what she expects, but when you stand before her and her hazel eyes sweep up to you, she is shocked. Pale pink lips falling open. No words.

You are trying to find a way to say _I love you and I'm sorry this ever happened to you and you are absolutely extraordinary even when you are broken _without scaring her away. You think of Rook. Rook would have a smooth line. And Storm. Storm would know what to say. Your characters are the people you want to be. You'd do anything for the right words now.

Finally, she asks, "How did you find me?"

The words are harsh, accusing. Hazel eyes narrowing at you as she lifts her chin from her hands, balling them into fists. They cut through you but so do her eyes most days, with their beauty, with their grief and their sadness. You know how to process it. You know that she doesn't mean to hurt you, she just doesn't know how to communicate well. She never has.

"Lanie. I asked for your address."

She hums at that and you hope that she's not mad. She doesn't look so mad anymore. Rests her chin back on her hands and watches the water again. You wonder how many walls she is hiding behind.

"Can I hug you?" You blurt the words out ungracefully, shoving your hands into your coat to stop them from reaching for her.

It startles her. She looks at you again, and you can't help but notice the purple bruises beneath her eyes. How much sleep has she been getting recently? Do the bad dreams keep her awake at night too?

"Castle…"

Your name. It's not even your name, really, but something false you gave yourself. But falling from her lips it sounds right.

"Please? I'm sorry, Kate, I..."

You're pathetic. _Begging_ for a hug. She probably pities you.

You clear your throat and try again. "I know it's been hard for you and that's why you haven't called. But I just need- I just need something. To make myself believe that you're still alive."

That she's not gone just yet.

She is sand slipping through your fingers. You need to hold on for one moment more.

Her expression morphs to one of pity and she rises from the step with her usual grace. You watch as she places a hand over her side, from when they cut her open, stuck their tools inside of her and her heart. Some place you will never be. You want to tell her to sit back down, to free her of any pain, but then she steps towards you. And gently, so gently, she wraps her arms around your waist and presses her ear to your chest. Above your heartbeat.

Your arms are around her in an instant. It is awkward. You don't do this, the pair of you. You don't talk about how you feel and you label yourselves as partners and you definitely do not hug. But you press your face into her hair and breathe her in anyway, and she smells like petrichor and it makes your heart seize then and there and you don't care an awful amount about what she thinks of you because you _need _this. Your hands fist in the natural curls of her hair, so soft, like her- She's soft, here, in your arms. But oh- how strong she is. She overcomes death every time. She is alive.

Kate lets out a stutter of a breath, and when you pull away her eyes are opening, wide and vulnerable. "Okay?" She whispers, hands slipping from your waist.

You reluctantly drop your hands to your side, moving away from her.

"Okay."

She catches your wrist, eyes imploring yours.

"I'm alive, Castle. I'm not dead. I'm not going anywhere. You understand?"

All you can think is _I love you _and how the words will always be stained with her blood. And you know. You know by the desperation in her words that she remembers. Remembers every word, every moment, no matter the lies that she hides behind. The downwards curl of her lips, the guilt in her eyes, the way she holds onto you as though you are hope. It's all there.

Why does she lie?

"I understand."

She lets you go.

Studying her, you notice that her eyes are sunken, and that her skin is as pale and as fragile as paper. Would she let you write your words on her skin? Would you ever try? Would she ever let you love her in all the ways that you want to?

Kate nods slightly and sits back down, a hand on her scars again, pressing through the cardigan she wears. It's then that you notice how casual her clothing is. Clothing for the ill. A loose vest top, leggings, a cardigan that surely cannot be keeping her warm in the chill of the autumn weather. Free of her usual jeans, high heels, leather jacket.

She's in pain.

You're only worsening it.

"Thank you." You offer awkwardly, watching the grimace play on her lips.

"Don't mention it, Castle." She says wryly, watching you carefully.

It's the same look. The same one they all give you back at home. Pity.

It's strange, she's the one that was shot. You were there. But everyone is waiting for you to fall. Why is that?

Kate rakes one pale hand through her hair, tugging at the curls as though they both her. You ache to touch her again. But no, you have no claim on her. You shouldn't even be here.

"How are you?" You ask, but you know she'll lie before the words have even escaped you.

"I'm fine. I'm fine." She nods, eyes tired. "How are you?"

You hesitate. Truth or lies?

You stick with her theme and lie. "I'm fine."

"Good… Good." She murmurs softly, looking down at her hands. Laces them in her lap. Picks at her nails.

She wants you to leave and you can't think of a reason to stay other than you love her so very much you fear it will end you.

"Did you really just drive fifty miles out here just for a hug?" She asks curiously, but you can see the smile stretching on her lips that she thinks she hides, the twinkle in her eyes.

You put that there. That happiness. For one fleeting moment, you brought her joy. It makes your own heart smile.

"It was a great hug." You say.

She purses her lips. "I don't know, I've had better."

This is okay. You can do jokes. You've always been able to make her laugh, you've always been able to make anyone laugh, whether it's at you or with you. Whatever makes her happy, you don't mind. You can take the pain. For now.

"I'll have you know that _I _am the master of hugs. I've received excellent feedback."

"Did Alexis tell you that?"

"I- Well- Not just Alexis."

"And she actually said you were the _master _of hugs?"

"She was five."

Kate chuckles, it reaches her eyes even as she places a hand over her chest. Right. The scars. You're hurting her again, even with her laughter. Is there nothing you can do right?

As her laughter fades with the sun, you force your hands back into your pockets, and look down at your feet. This trip was supposed to give you some peace of mind, and hopefully lift her spirits too. So why does it now feel like it's goodbye?

"Castle?"

"Hmm?"

"Thank you. For coming out here."

Her voice is soft and you think you will remember it forever.

You shift awkwardly, pointing back over to your car. "I should- I mean…"

"Yeah, of course."

Her voice is less energetic now, pressing her lips together until they're a thin line.

"Is there- I mean I'm not implying anything but- Is there someone here? With you?"

Kate smiles slightly, crooked. "Yeah. My Dad. He's visiting his friend's cabin tonight. Bill. Don't worry, Castle, I'm not alone."

You don't know what to say. You want to ask to stay, so you can not be alone together, but once again you remember that you have no right. She is not yours. You were a fool for ever believing so. What did you think, that she'd ditch her heart surgeon boyfriend for you, a man that makes a living from words but cannot find them for her?

"Okay. I- I suppose I'll see you whenever you're back."

Things will not be the same. You have been kicked out of the precinct. You do not know if she'll want you back there, as her partner. Maybe it's still over.

The light fades from her eyes. "Okay, Castle."

You take a few steps backwards, eyes trained on hers. Is this goodbye? No more precinct, and she doesn't call when she promises. You cannot keep chasing after her. You're_ so_ tired. This isn't the type of life you'd ever thought you'd live- With her tragic background, like something out of a book. You never thought that you'd be so involved with such things. That you'd fall in love so hard it breaks every bone in your body and her smile puts them back together again.

"Drive safe." She murmurs, hand lifting as though to wave but merely hovers in the air.

"Yeah. Sure."

You climb back into your car and turn the engine on. For a moment you do nothing. Sitting there, gripping the wheel, trying to convince yourself this is not goodbye. All the while you watch her and the way she watches you, drinking in her pale skin and broken body, wishing that if this were the last time you ever see her it were a happy time. Normally she is so fierce. Now she is so small.

And then you cannot stand it anymore so you hit the gas and drive away, heart thudding loudly in your chest, pulse alive and skittering around your veins.

When you remember to look in the rear-view mirror, the image of her is already gone.

* * *

You enter home and find that your mother and Alexis are both already asleep. Outside New York is abuzz, the city that never sleeps. You find that you are so exhausted that you don't belong.

There's a text on your phone. It's from her. Sitting on your bed, you open it, trying to avoid getting your hopes up.

It's an image taken on her phone of the stars in the sky above the lake. The water reflects the night sky as though it is purple, stars shining boldly amidst the blackness.

No caption. You text back: _Astounding. _

Barely a beat passes before she replies: _It's even better in real life._

And then, another text: _You should stay. If you want. They're relaxing. _

You forget how to breathe.

And you forget about her boyfriend, and you forget that you have no right, and you forget that she is running. You are running with her.

_Tomorrow, _you say.

_Tomorrow, _she agrees.

* * *

**TBC**


	2. Chapter 2

**silence is star-like**

I forgot to mention last time, Aisling (houghtonsbeckett) made the awesome cover art for this fic. Though she does everything for my fic because she's my bitch. So you probably assumed that already. Also, thank you so much for the kind words on this experiment of mine so far!

* * *

Your daughter thinks it's a great idea. Your mother warns you against it. When she walks in to find you packing your bag the next day and you provide her with your explanation, she sits you down, taking your hands in hers. Hers are weathered with lines of age, experience- Yours are soft, you've lived vicariously through your writing. Time to start living.

"Richard…" She sighs, and you already know that you're not going to agree with whatever she has to say. "Katherine is a good woman. But she is… She is involved in some dark stuff. You can't just waltz in and rescue her like some sort of prince charming."

Is that what she thinks this is? That you're simply trying to sweep Kate off of her feet? No, you are trying to make her world stop spinning so she can stand alone. So that she doesn't need the crutch of her mother's murder, or the memory of her late captain, or a man she doesn't love. You want her to stand on her own two feet. That's all she deserves. She doesn't owe you a single thing.

"I know, Mother." You answer, and you can see in her eyes that she doesn't believe you. The way her eyelids flutter slightly, the way the light slowly diminishes. "Honestly. I'm not expecting to be a hero."

Your mother smiles wryly. "Kate Beckett doesn't need saving, kiddo. She just needs time."

You smile, press a kiss to her cheek, and leave.

* * *

Kate's sitting in the chair on the porch when you arrive. Wooden, looking incredibly uncomfortable. She's bundled in a crochet blanket with her knees pulled up beneath the chin and watching him, silent. Her breath swirls in the chill of the morning air, almost beckoning him as it curls, loops, twists, like some magnificent dancer. Like her soul sprung free of its skin cage.

You didn't expect her to be awake. It's only 8am. She should be resting, recuperating. You had planned on sitting outside until it was a decent time. You just needed to be here early because, well… Because you did. Because New York is cramped and she isn't there and here… Here is beautiful and so is she and she is watching you like you are a walking miracle. The way she used to look at you when she thought that you weren't looking, the way you caught her doing out of the corner of your eye but never mentioned, the way she looked at you before you confessed three words from the very pit of your every being while she was bleeding on the ground.

Clambering from the car, you grab your bag and the two cups of coffee you'd bought out of habit, hooking the rucksack over your shoulder as you do. Wasting time. Suddenly, things are not quite so endless and simple as they seemed in that picture of the night sky.

"Hey." You call, walking up to her.

Her lips curve into a smile, the one that steals your breath away at it hits her eyes, makes the edges of them soften and crinkle. So different to the tough exterior that she puts on all the time.

"Hey, Castle."

Her words are slurred with sleep and for a moment you're convinced that she only awoke so early because she knew you were coming. But then your mind is putting a hasty end to that. She didn't know you'd be so crazily early.

She catches you watching her and narrows her eyes, but then you're climbing up on the porch and holding out her cup of coffee and she doesn't comment on it.

Instead, her hazel eyes light up as though you've just made her world.

"Oh, thank you." She almost cries in glee, reaching for the cup.

You can't help but laugh at her insane obsession with the drink, but the laugh gets caught in your throat as she cradles it in both palms and sips, lowly letting out some ungodly moan that should _never _exit her bedroom for your own sanity.

When she stops and finds you staring at her, mouth open, she raises an eyebrow. Like everything is how it was before.

"What?" She asks.

"Nothing- I-" _Think you're gorgeous and sexy and broken all in one._ "I just don't understand how you can be so ridiculously in love with a drink."

Kate rolls her eyes. "I haven't had a decent coffee in two months, Castle. Lay off."

"Two months?" You repeat, eyes wide. "Are you okay? Do you want mine?"

One of her hands leaves her cup and she shoves at your hip, making you lose your breath. You settle down in the chair beside her before a similar chance appears. She has a boyfriend, you remind yourself. You're not here for that anyway, she is different. She is an abundance of shattered pieces, ghost reflections hidden in the back of her mind, and you are going to give her the glue to help her be what she once was and what she always will be.

"Shut up, Castle." She says lightly, breaking through your thoughts. "It didn't mix well with my medicine at first, and now I'm off that, but Dad makes a terrible cup of coffee, and there's no store around here for miles."

"You could always get Josh to bring you some." You point out, hating yourself for it, but knowing this is all you'll ever be. A supportive friend.

It could be enough. Someday. You just need to learn how to stop the stutter of your heart whenever she looks your way, or how to control the way your pulse soars when that smile of hers even dares threaten to be let loose.

Kate stills at the mention of Josh, holding the coffee cup against her lips but not sipping, hands curling awkwardly around the thing.

"I suppose I could." She says softly. "But it wouldn't be the same."

Your heart does this awkward flip in your chest. You need to stop being so hopeful. Yes, the pair of you were great at subtext, but that was before. Now is different. This is- everything.

"They took you off the pain medicine, huh?" You say, curious, desperate to change the topic of the conversation.

"Mmm." Kate hums. "Last week. Weaned me off of them slowly. I can't say I'll miss them much, I slept too often."

"Right. Right- That's- That's good. You're feeling okay?" You ask, because how could you not, when she sits huddled in that blanket, cradling that coffee cup as though it is her only source of warmth, looking so small and pallid and fragile.

"Yeah. I'm feeling fine, Castle."

You lean back in the awkward wooden chair next to hers, stretching your legs out after such a long drive. Her eyes turn to the lake before the pair of you and so do yours, watching the twinkle of the early morning water. There are others coming out of their cabins, elder men with their chairs and their fishing rods, little children trailing after them, no doubt grandchildren come to visit during the summer holidays. They must end soon. Alexis goes back in a week, her last year. Your little baby is growing up, no longer needing your support. A grown woman. Not the chubby, wailing little thing you held almost eighteen years ago, pink and crying and utterly dependent on you.

You chance a glance over to Kate. She doesn't catch you watching her. But it makes you wonder whether that's what this is. Your baby bird is flying from the nest and now you need someone new to dote on and care for. There is no doubt in your mind that you love Kate with every inch of your ink-filled heart. You do not for a second believe that she is merely a project, some sort of mystery to be figured out and pushed and prodded at for your own amusement, your own gains. No, never that. But in some ways you need her as much as she needs you. You need her to fill the gap left in your life that Alexis used to fill, one you cannot force her to fill anymore as she's a grown woman with responsibilities and wide, bright eyes ready to drink in the world and everything it has in store for her. And you could never hold her back, you would never wish to for one moment.

And Kate needs you to just be there. Be the one person who never questions anything. You don't parent her, as her father does. You don't comfort her, as her boyfriend must. You don't hear her every woe, as her best friend does. You don't tease her, as her team does. You are always there. You are constant. You are here to show her that not everyone will leave her behind. You're not quite sure whether she knows that.

And you're not quite sure whether that's beautiful or if it's heart-breaking.

* * *

Kate shows you to your room. Her father's.

At your odd look, she explains. "I was so tired of him watching over me, Castle. I can move about and look after myself just fine now. I sent him away yesterday. He didn't wanna go, but I told him that you'd stay for the first night to make sure I can cope."

Your heart flutters at that. "You're using me to lie to your father? What next, am I gonna have to tell him you're around my house when really you're sneaking out with the boy that's always sending you love notes in calculus?"

Kate snickers, hitting his elbow with hers playfully. "Don't worry Castle, I'll cover you when your mother asks why you broke curfew the night you were getting off with the beautiful cheerleader at the party."

Bashfully, you smile at her, hoping she understands that this is enough for you. Even with the words there between you, this is enough.

Her eyes slide away guiltily from yours, but you don't suppose you mind terribly. This too shall pass.

Her hand brushes yours as she walks out, a whisper of the thoughts trapped inside her head.

* * *

She takes you to meet Bill, Jim's best friend.

Bill, as it turns out, has a cabin just a ten minute walk away. You offer to drive but Kate tells you she likes to walk, likes the smell of the fresh air and the silence save for the sound of the streams rushing through the forest barely five minutes away.

You like the way she absorbs it all, the nature. You thought that she would hate it but as you wander along the rocky path with her she occasionally stops and traces a finger across the petal of a flower, smiling slightly when she finds a ladybug.

She catches you watching and she defends herself immediately. "Not much greenery in New York. I forget how beautiful it can be."

"I don't know, I quite like the hustle and bustle of New York, at least I don't get bitten so much there."

She chuckles softly and you watch as she cups the ladybug in her palm, setting it back on the petal of a flower. She studies it carefully, absorbing it all, as though she will never have the chance to again.

"Why are beautiful things always so delicate?" She asks quietly.

You're almost sad when you reply, "They often have the most to lose."

* * *

Kate tugs you in the direction of a small cabin, one hand curled around your elbow. It's a light touch at first but as you stray from the path and through the greenery towards the cabin, her touch grows heavier, until she's almost leaning on you. You send her a puzzled look and she sighs.

"I didn't get much sleep last night." She tells you, and the way she says it, clipped and defensive, alerts you to the fact that you won't get any more explanation than that.

So you allow yourself to be her crutch, for a time.

"Katie!" A man who looks to be the same age as Jim cries. He spots her as he's walking towards the lake, a box in his hands. "What're you doin' here? You shouldn't be walkin' around like that, your dad'll kill me if he finds out I've let you do that. You know how many promises about checkin' up on you I had to make to convince him to get his sorry ass back to New York?"

Kate laughs, tugging on you as you slow down nervously. She still leans on you even as they approach the man. As though she's not ashamed. As though this is normal.

"Bill." She greets him, and once you reach him he leads you down to his spot by the lake, indicating for you to follow. "I won't tell him if you don't."

Bill sets the box down, bait for fishing, and turns to the pair of you. He seems to be sizing you up. You don't blame him. Kate's practically draped over you in exhaustion, after all.

"Bill," Kate says with amusement lacing her tone, sensing the tension radiating off of him, "this is Richard Castle. My par- friend."

You stare at her in surprise for that one, but she looks away, down at her shoes, scuffing the floor.

Bill breaks into a smile, suddenly friendly as he reaches out a hand for you to shake. You take it, expecting it to be strong, some sort of warning, but any trace of tension is gone now.

"Oh sure, I've hearda you. You're the one that writes those books about Katie here, don'tcha?"

You smile. "I sure am. I only accept the best muses."

Kate digs an elbow into your sides for that one, but it's worth it.

"I gotta say, I don't appreciate those sex scenes of yours much. Appreciate them as much as her Dad does." Bill says, narrowing his eyes at you. "Course, I've known Katie here since she was just a little baby."

You swallow nervously, suddenly hot despite the fact that the air is cool. Are you sweating? You think you might be sweating.

Kate laughs, squeezing your elbow before she drops into a nearby chair, pale and tired face still managing to form laugh lines. "He's just messing with you, Castle."

Bill shrugs, sitting down in the only other free chair. "Might be, might not."

You hover by uselessly until Kate rolls her eyes and tells you to go take a foldable chair from Bill's cabin. The man doesn't seem to mind, simply tells you where they are. You return with it as soon as possible anyway, placing yours right beside Kate, in the empty space between her and Bill. She watches you with amusement as you hurry back and almost stumble in your haste to sit down, tongue caught between her teeth. It steals your breath away, so you have to look elsewhere, because as much as this is enough, it's not.

"Why don't you tell Castle the story of the time that fish almost drowned Dad?" Kate suggests as Bill begins placing his bait on the line.

The man's mouth falls open, staring at him Kate with wide eyes. "You've never told him that? But that's your favourite story!"

Kate smiles. "But you tell it better."

You should be focusing on how Bill leans forwards in his chair, excitement in his eyes, in his element to tell the story- The absolute best storyteller, better than you. And maybe you should notice how Kate's watching you fondly, cheek resting on her hand, not even bothering to hide it. But your heart is hammering over the words _but you tell it better. _

She said it as though she always meant for you to be here.

* * *

By the time you begin walking back from Bill's cabin, it's one o'clock, and you're stuffed from sandwiches the man made. He'd seemed hell-bent on feeding Kate even though she merely picked at her food, and the look in his eyes made sense, as though he was expecting you to set a good example. So you ate everything he made, even once you were full, teasing Kate here and there. Until she was eating again and swiping your food away from you the way she used with your fries in Remy's, and stealing the last of your lemonade the way she used to steal your milkshake in Remy's, eyes twinkling as her lips sealed around the straw.

Kate takes your arm again and leans into your side without even giving an excuse. You're the perfect gentleman about it and don't comment. After a few seconds of silence, you feel her melt into your side, grateful for the silence, the lack of questioning. You're glad you can give her this.

Halfway back, you break the silence. "So your Dad really won't admit to that ever happening?"

Kate chuckles, brushing the hair from her eyes as she walks. "God, no. He wouldn't even admit it to Mom, he was so embarrassed."

It's nice, to hear her speak so freely about times when her Mom was alive without the heavy weight of her murder looming above her.

And then you feel her shoulders sink.

"It's hard." She murmurs softly.

You look down at her, watching as her face turns into a mask. "What is?"

"Seeing Bill, sometimes. I know he tried, when my Dad was… You know… But he never tried hard enough. He always told me to give it time, that my Dad was just coping in his own way, and if that involved drink then so be it." She says bitterly, frowning. "He apologized to me for saying that. The first time my Dad ended up hospitalized because he was so drunk he broke his arm by tripping over a sidewalk, in the middle of the day."

You wish you could hold her. Now. And in those times. You wish you had met her earlier. You wish that you could have always been there for her. You're making up for lost time that you will never be able to find at all.

"I'm sorry, Kate." You say, because there's not much else _to_ say.

That flicker in her eyes appears, something between safety and home, as it always does when you say her first name.

"Not your fault, Castle." She says on a sigh, pressing her cheek to your shoulder. "You're here now. That's all that matters."

Your heart is screaming as you pull her closer. She is worth every second of it.

* * *

**TBC**


	3. Chapter 3

**silence is star-like**

The other day, I met Aisling. Oh, and Seamus and Juliana Dever. But my point is that if you think her cover art is awesome, she's even more A+ than you'd imagine. Also, please note the change of POV in this chapter.

* * *

He actually has the nerve to tell you to go to sleep.

When you arrive back from Bill's cabin, he takes your coat from your shoulders, all warm eyes as he tells you to rest.

You frown at him, hands on your hips. "It's the middle of the day, Castle."

Castle hangs your coat up for you, and if you were any stronger you'd argue with him for treating you like a child. "Yes, and you're tired."

You roll your eyes. "I'm fine, Castle."

"Kate, you're tired. You know it, I know it. If you were fine, you would've shot me for even suggesting it."

This- This man. This smug, annoying man. How on Earth did you ever find it within you to miss him? You're fairly certain he had more appeal when he was away from you. He seemed like a saint then, in your dreams of him, holding you as you bled. In your dreams, he would kiss the scars on your skin, he would make the bleeding stop, he would tell you that it doesn't matter that you're flawed, it doesn't matter that you're lost, it doesn't matter because after all of these things he still loves you and will shelter you from the storm in your mind.

And now, he simply acts like some sort of- of- Smartass. Or something similar. Something you think you should twist his ear for.

"Kate." He says as you open your mouth to argue, holding his palms up. "I'm no doctor, but I know you need to rest. Sure, you're off the pain meds now. That's great. But that doesn't mean your body is fully healed. Hell, I practically carried you back here."

"That was just because I didn't sleep much last-"

"Then sleep now." He says sternly.

His tone doesn't leave much space for you to argue. And the way he looks at you, pleading and stern, it reminds you of the hangar. The way he picked your body up with a strength you didn't know he possessed, pulled you away from harm and pinned you against that car. You still remember his hand over your mouth as you sobbed, the way he begged you to be quiet, the desperation in his eyes.

And in the end, his efforts haven't made a damn bit of difference. You were still shot, just on a different day, in a different place. And you're still broken.

(He loves you.)

"Fine." You agree reluctantly, watching the smug smile waning on his lips as you glare at him. "But I swear, Castle, if that door opens-"

"You'll shoot me dead, even if I'm bringing you coffee."

You roll your eyes at him as you head into your room of the cabin and climb into the bed.

The image of him hovering above you whispering _I Love You, Kate_ is imprinted in your eyes as your head hits the pillow, except behind him is not an endless blue sky, and rather than screams of fear you almost think you hear the rustling of bed sheets.

* * *

When you awake, it's to a racing heart, clammy hands, and tangled sheets. You blink once, twice, sitting upright and trying to make the room stop spinning. Even as you're kicking away the sheets from your limbs the shaking of your body is already beginning to subside, and you're chasing after the dream in your mind that made you feel this way.

You close your eyes and lean back against the headboard, resting an arm over your eyes. Focus, Kate, focus.

Blue eyes. So blue. You could drown in them. But in this dream you are only drowning in his blood, feeling yourself land on the ground with his frozen body above you, scarlet mingling with your uniform and the grass. You shove him off of you and you're all panicked hands, tears, words spilling from you that were once his, three words and eight letters and his blood is the key to the cage that held them hostage.

No. It was just a dream. Just a dream. You were the one that was shot, he was too late to throw himself in front.

You have to check anyway, shoving the vest top aside and pushing your fingers against the rough scar between your breasts. Still there. You hated it before but now you're grateful for it, for it to be you that's marked with these scars as opposed to him.

You push from the bed, suddenly needing to be near him, to make sure that he's okay. You know he must be. There'd be something off if he wasn't. You always did get that gut instinct, ever since the day your Mom died and you beat yourself up about not noticing that something was wrong, it's been there. Some sort of sixth sense that has always alerted you to danger, like when the triple killer tried to take him away from you.

When you stumble rather ungracefully into the main room, you find him sitting in one of the armchairs, reading Nikki Heat. You laugh at the absurdity of it, of the man's ego, but then you notice the way that his eyes are not focused on the text but rather the scruffy notes you made around it. Thumbs brushing across your handwriting. Tracing the swirls of ink as though they are precious.

"Castle."

He looks up at you, and something must be off in your voice, or must be showing on your face, because immediately he shoves the book on the table beside him and stands. He takes a step closer to you and you notice how he hesitates, unsure. So many boundaries are being breached lately and he must be so confused.

"Kate. What's wrong?"

You don't know how to explain the jagged feeling in your heart.

"Kate?"

Slowly, like you did before, you wrap your arms around his waist and step close, pressing your ear against his chest. Castle's arms are warm around you, surrounding you, everything you could have ever hoped they would be. And there is his heartbeat. Beneath your ear, you can hear it, the distorted sound through travelling through the layer of his skin. His perfectly undamaged heart, unlike yours. You can feel his breathing, too, the jerky rise and fall of his chest. He's nervous. He doesn't know how to hold you like this and you don't know how to figure it out either. So you fist your hands a little tighter in the back of his shirt and hope that he doesn't notice how you need to close your eyes to fight the tears.  
He is alive.

"Kate..." His voice is quiet, strained. "What are we doing?"

You pull away enough to get a look into his eyes. Huh. That perfectly undamaged heart isn't as undamaged as you'd thought.

"Comforting one another."

"As friends do?"

But he's more than that, isn't he? And you're more than that to him, you have the words to prove it. You just don't think there are words to describe you two that would make him understand why you're always afraid.

"I suppose."

"So I'm your friend?"

He's desperate now, eyes seeking yours. You want to say yes to give him some peace of mind. But you're selfish, you can't hold back.

"Well... No."

His face falls slightly, but he tries to mask it. You see it anyway. You can always see him.

"If I'm not your friend, what am I to you?"

"You're my lighthouse, Castle."

You murmur the words so softly they don't sound like your own.

His face is carefully blank, and then he closes his eyes. Wraps you up in his arms again, and suddenly the man with the words doesn't have any. But when you lay your ear against his chest again, you can hear his heart thudding louder than before, and you think that tells you more than any of his words ever could.

* * *

He makes you dinner.

He rummages through the kitchen area of the cabin and pulls out food you weren't even aware was there. You try to stop him, claim you're not hungry, you're not hungry all that hungry recently. You don't want to impose on him. But he pushes you away with a laugh, and soon enough the beautiful smell of carbonara is swirling through the air.

Outside, it grows dark for the evening, and you're staring through the window with your arms wrapped around yourself when you hear him yelp.

You turn, laughing when you notice him sticking his finger in his mouth, whimpering.

"What did you do?" You ask, approaching him. He'd banned you from the kitchen area earlier. You'd rolled your eyes at him but went along with it anyway.

"Piece of bacon got stuck- I wasn't thinking- Tried to grab it with my finger." He tells you between blowing on his blistering finger and sticking his tongue on it like a little kid.

You roll your eyes. "Come here."

Reluctantly, he places his hand into your outstretched one. You marvel at how soft his hands are, but then notice the blistering on his finger. An angry red welt.

"C'mon. We'll put some ice on it. It's not too bad." You tell him, dragging him over to the sink.

He waits patiently as you grab the ice from the fridge and place it in a kitchen towel, wrapping the thing up before reaching for his hand again. He's watching you as though you are something new, his eyes cautious, his movements afraid. You're too wrapped up in making sure that he's okay to even try and figure out why that look is there.

"There." You say, cupping his hand and pressing the ice against his finger. "Better?"

Castle clears his throat as you look up at him. You can feel his breath against your lips and jerk back slightly, surprised at your proximity.

"Uh, yeah." He says, voice wavering.

You smile at him and make sure that he holds the ice against his finger before something stupid happens. Or before you do something stupid yourself. Like pulling his finger closer and gently kissing his injury better.

Like stepping just that little bit closer, crossing that line that's been etched in the sand since the day you met, and kissing him as though you are free from your demons.

* * *

You both eat dinner out on the porch.

It's comfortable. Quiet, but not uncomfortably so. The early autumn chill wraps around you but before you even have time to shiver he's wrapping the blanket from the back of your chair around you. Such a sweet, sweet man.

You could pretend that everything's just fine in this moment. It aches your heart that it's not. How could you have run from such love?

"This is really nice, Castle." You tell him, and you're not so sure whether you're talking about the food or not.

He shrugs. "Comfort food. I figured you needed it."

You smile, remembering the comfort food truck you took him to after learning of his break up with Gina. The thought crosses your mind, not for the first time, that you were probably the cause of that break up. And again, not for the first time, the thought crosses your mind that if Castle and Gina hadn't gotten back together in the first place, perhaps neither of you would be here at all. Perhaps instead you would be together. Perhaps instead he would smile more often. Perhaps instead you would be free of your demons.

"Hmmm." You hum, but don't comment further.

A few quiet moments later, Castle speaks up again.

"Thanks for, um, inviting me out here. It's, uh, it's been really nice." He says, looking straight ahead, watching the water, the reflection of the twinkle of the stars.

You want to say something more. But you fear that if you open your mouth, you might do something stupid, like telling him that you want to break up with your boyfriend for him, or that you want him to stay forever, or that you love him so much your broken little heart fixes itself time and time again to make enough space for what you feel.

"Is there a time you want me gone by tomorrow?" He asks you, and you can hear how desperate he sounds, that he doesn't really want to go.

If you ask him to stay for longer, you're not quite sure how you'll heal for him. You've never healed around another person before. That's always been something you've had to do alone.

Nevertheless, you find yourself telling him, "Whenever you want to go."

He meets your eyes, and you can see it written there, the answer. Never.

Neither of you say anything, and neither of you break eye contact. You don't think you could, even if you tried.

He's watching you like you are beautiful, and you're so warm from the food, and the ambience is wrapping around you so tightly that it feels as though it's just blinking when you fall asleep, remembering the blue of his eyes, his love, drowning in the ocean of it all.

You wake the next morning in your own bed, the blankets wrapped tightly around you, a note on your bedside table saying _give me a couple of days and I'll be back. Feed yourself while I'm gone. Stay safe._

Despite the fact that you're alone once again, you're smiling because you're certain that you didn't dream the brush of his lips against your temple, the whispered words _I Love You_ against your skin.

It's the first time that you've believed that healing might be worth it after all.

* * *

**TBC**


	4. Chapter 4

**silence is star-like**

Especially dedicated to bean (seilleanmor) because she has an exam today. And also simply because she is precious.

* * *

You feel as though you are made of light.

You are floating. You float around the kitchen, you remember to eat, you dress yourself without hurting, you walk up to the lake and giggle as the cold water ghosts over your toes.

Bill notices. You go to visit him, finding him already set up for the day, fishing. Normally, you would tease him for always fishing, question what else he ever does. But now you simply gracefully melt into the chair and lean your head back, soaking up the last of the late summer rays, kicking your shoes off. Relaxed. It feels good to be alive.

"Feelin' good today, huh?" He comments, watching you out of the corner of his eye.

You hum, eyes closed, wriggling your fingers against the armrests of the chair.

"Feeling great."

"Haven't seen you look this happy in some time, Katie."

Your eyes open at the serious tone in his voice, but he's already turning back to the lake, casting bait.

Perhaps you haven't been this happy in some time.

"That writer guy of yours not here today?" Bill asks you curiously.

You can't stop the smile that rises to your lips at his name. You're both grateful and completely indifferent towards the fact Bill is turned away and cannot see. There's nothing to be ashamed about, after all. Castle is a good man. You are allowed to be happy about… Him. Being here. Always.

"No." You answer, still smiling. "But he should be coming back to stay soon."

"Oh?" Bill leans back in his chair, raising an eyebrow at you. "How long's he gonna stay?"

"I don't know." Forever. You won't let go. "That's for him to decide, I suppose."

"I see."

You close your eyes and turn your face back towards the direction of the sun, but then Bill is speaking again, making you open your eyes once again.

"What exactly's goin' on between the two of you anyhow?"

Everything. In small, sporadic bursts of light. Fireworks.

"We're good friends."

Friends whose hearts beat as one.

He is waiting for you. _You. _After everything you've done, he comes back to you. He pushes you to be more. He shows you who you are. And you love him in a quiet way, the way that doesn't need words. The way that doesn't need proving. It just is.

"Good friends, huh"

Bill smirks, and you're still too full of light to be annoyed by it. Instead you poke your tongue out at him, playful.

"And your, uh, surgeon boyfriend's okay with this arrangement then?"

Shadows swallow your light.

Josh.

How… How on Earth had you managed to forget that you already have a boyfriend? You're practically cheating on him in your mind. Stupid, irresponsible fool.

You're acting as though all Castle has to do is wait. For you to learn to be better. As soon as he had turned up, you'd lost all rational thought. Thinking that you could heal. For him. Yet you're still trapped with Josh. No- Not trapped. You can end it. You can.

Josh is nice. Josh is… Safe. Josh gave you a reason other than your demons to shy away from Castle. And then- when Castle spoke three little words as your world faded to black and you woke to the whisperings of your heart echoing those same three words back, you had run from them both. Why are you always running?

"He's not… He's not aware. I haven't really…" You trail off, eyes cast back to the lake.

When was the last time you had spoken to Josh? The day you had been discharged? The phone call when you got to the cabin? You don't remember. Most of your memories consist of pain, pushing help away and endless sleep. Nightmares. Flashes of silver before a warm body collides with yours and everything sets aflame.

"I don't wanna intrude, Katie, but… That writer guy? I like him. Your dad likes him. I'm sure as Hell you like him at the very least." At his words, you blush, but he continues anyway, "And that guy loves you. Knew it when I read that dedication about you. Could feel it in his words, you know? And then when he came out here… Well, I don't s'pose you're so unaware as you act."

Horrifyingly, you feel tears rising to your eyes. You swipe at them hastily, hoping he won't see, but of course he does.

"I'm not telling you how to live your life, Katie." Bill says quietly. "Hell, if I had it my way, you'd still be the little girl I remember dancing around her parent's house wearing her mom's jewellery and a pink tutu. But I just wanna see you happy. Just like your Dad does."

You smile fondly at the memory, even through your tears. Your heart is clattering against your ribs, whispering and whispering.

"So you gotta think about what makes you happy… Does your boyfriend make you happy?"

"Well… I suppose he does try." You answer reluctantly, looking away from Bill.

"What about Castle? Does he make you happy?"

You smile and remember how he made you feel as though you are made of light. The tears disappear.

"More than anything in the world."

* * *

After spending the day with Bill, you return back to your dad's cabin, stuffed with food. The moon is just beginning to rise as the sun sets, a hazy orange settling across the sky and licking across the waves. You watch it as though you can catch its light. As though it's something that you can put in a jar for the days that you don't feel so good.

But you know that the light you felt because of Castle is not so simple. It isn't something physical you can jar. It's not a reserve for the bad days. It's just there, because that's how he makes you feel, and you love him all the more for it.

Your phone rings as you enter the cabin, settling onto the couch as you answer the call without reading the name.

"Beckett."

"Hey, Katie."

"Oh. Hey, Dad."

You shift on the couch, getting comfortable, as you hear his laughter ring through the cell.

"You sound disappointed. Expecting someone else to call?"

You blush, grateful he's not in the room.

"No- I just- I wasn't expecting you to call."

"Well, I was just calling to see how you were doing."

"Oh. I'm fine. Everything's fine, Dad."

"Of course it is. Especially if you have Rick there to help you out." Your father comments lightly.

You freeze, feeling a frown forming on your face.

"Did you by any chance just have a phone call from Bill?"

Of course, now is when he chooses to go silent. His silence tells you the answer that you were dreading, though. You sigh, throwing your head back against the couch and rubbing a hand across your eyes.

"So what were you two gossips talking about this time?"

"Katie, we weren't _gossiping._"

"Sounds an awful lot like it to me."

You hear your father sigh on the other end of the conversation.

"I understand that there are certain aspects of your life that you don't want to tell your father about. But, Katie, I am always here to talk. Even if it's about the fact Rick makes you happier than your boyfriend does."

You swallow roughly. _Don't deny it_. Here are the truths being set free and it is so good. So good. You don't have to hide them anymore. At least there's that. Even if you have to wait a while to be good enough for the man that makes you the happiest you've ever been. Even if you have to put in a lot of hard work to heal. There's this.

"I love him, Dad." You confess through a suddenly tight throat.

Why are you crying? Why are there tears? There's nothing wrong with loving Castle.

"Does he know that?"

You rest your cheek on your hand, wiping the tears away with your thumb. You imagine his on your own skin, swiping so gently, handling you as though you are precious and beautiful and not as broken as you really are. The image makes your heart seize for a moment.

"I don't think he does."

You breathe through the tears. Let them run free. It's okay to cry, that's something you've learned from your times in therapy. It's bad to bottle things up.

Like your secret. Castle's three words. Replaying over and over again in your mind. The last thing you ever thought you'd hear before you died and it had been a comfort, a blessing, to finally hear those words, to believe in them, to believe in him.

"Are you gonna tell him?"

"I don't know how."

How do you explain to him that you had to tell him you forgot in order to become better? How do you explain what becoming better is? How do you explain that you don't think you'll ever be good enough for him?

"Katie, I think the first step is by getting out of a relationship you've no interest in being in."

Everything is so complicated.

Because Josh is a great guy. And Josh is safe. And Josh hasn't done anything wrong. You pushed him away. Just like you pushed Castle away. Except Castle came after you and pushed you right back because that's what he does and it works and you're so grateful that someone finally understands you. Your boundaries. How you love. Quietly.

"I can't argue with that, Dad."

* * *

Your finger is hovering above the call button.

Josh's name lights up the screen, but you can't do it.

You can't do it because doing it over the phone is the coward's way out. Josh deserves more than that. Hell, the man once had his hand physically on your heart. It's not his fault he's never been inside of it like Castle always has been.

So as much as you do not love Josh, you know he deserves more.

When you get back to the city you'll meet up with him. It's just three weeks away. You won't heal enough in that time to be with Castle, right? No point in false expectations. You've got to be realistic. Even if the way Castle smiles at you renders you of all rational thought and makes you want to say to hell with waiting.

Standing at the kitchen window, you place the phone back down onto the counter with a sigh, and then look up and spot the moon. Full. Almost obnoxious as it hangs in the middle of the dark purple night sky.

Closing one eye, you hold your thumb up, and then the moon is lost in the whorl of your skin. Huh. The moon is big, you are not. You are complicated, Castle isn't. Yet the moon is the same size as the pad as your thumb on this night, in this way.

And what seemed big before is small again.

And what was dark returns to light.

* * *

He turns up early the next day.

You're not expecting him. You're out on the porch watching a pair of children help their grandfather catch fish in a cabin nearby, squealing as the fish tosses from side to side before they throw it back in again. And then there's Castle, with a cup of coffee and a smile that makes you feel as though you are glowing inside.

"You know, you should really consider buying one of those coffee machines I bought for the precinct."

You glare at him over the cup. "Oh yeah, Castle, because I'm here _so _regularly."

He takes the seat beside you, bag dropping to his feet. You notice how it's much larger than his rucksack, looks enough to fit just under a week's worth of clothes in it. You try to suppress your smile by taking a sip of the delicious, warm liquid, but you think he might see it anyway.

"I'm just saying. Instead of relying on me. I mean, after that cup, who knows when you'll next get your fix."

You smirk at him. "You do realize I'm gonna force you to get me another coffee tomorrow, right?"

"But that's a twenty minute drive away!"

"All I'm hearing is coffee."

He laughs as he stands. "I'm gonna go put this bag away."

"Sure."

Once he's gone, you find yourself rising out of the chair, your feet carrying you over to the lake. You admire the feel of the early morning sun on your face despite the crisp morning breeze, close your eyes and listen to the tinkling of children's laughter, the slow laps of the lake, Castle's careful footsteps behind you.

"Never will I ever see a more beautiful sight than this."

You turn to find him smiling as he walks up behind you, before finally stopping beside you. Together, you both watch the lake, hands brushing by your sides.

"You ever skipped stones, Castle?" You ask him, grinning, remembering childhood memories with your mother and your father.

"Are you kidding me? I am the master of skipping stones."

"Is there anything that you're _not _the master of?"

"Not that I know of. I can't help being this perfect."

You snort, carefully setting your coffee cup on the unsteady ground. You think you hear the plopping sound of Castle throwing a stone badly as you grab a small stone of your own.

Castle masks his expression to happiness when he spots you turning, and you already know he's going to be useless at this. That, and he can't keep his left foot still, tapping away as he always does when he's nervous.

"You ready, Castle?" You say, trying to keep the humour out of your voice.

Challenge sparkles in his eyes anyway. "I'll go easy on you."

"3, 2, 1-"

But as you pull your arm back to throw the stone, pain flares through your right side, igniting and licking at your ribs like flames. You drop the stone in shock, letting out a hiss of surprise and pain as you place a hand against your ribs, faltering for a moment.

"Kate?"

"I…"

You try to tell him that you're fine, but that would just be another lie. You're done with lies.

His arm is around your waist before you can push him away, holding you steady as you feel your knees buckle as a wave of pain crosses you. You close your eyes and cling to him, breathing through it.

"What's wrong?" He murmurs quietly, his free hand brushing back the hair from your eyes. You do not have the strength to tell him to stop. Instead, you lean into his touch.

"Nothing. It's passed now. Just- Pulled places I shouldn't have, I suppose."

"Are you sure?" His hand is still on your waist, his other hand feeling your temperature. "Do you want to rest?"

"I just woke up, Castle."

"Maybe you shouldn't have been taken off of the pain meds. Maybe you-"

"Kate?"

You startle so violently in his arms it's a wonder that he doesn't drop you.

The light fades from you as you turn.

"Josh?"


	5. Chapter 5

**silence is star-like**

**Pour Audrey, parce que je l'aime et elle ne devrait pas être triste. J'espère que ce chapitre lui remonte le moral.**

* * *

When you were fourteen years old, Tyler Jacobson was your biggest crush. Tall, broad, dark-haired and equipped with that ever so charming cocky attitude, you'd pined for him just as other girls in your school year had. The school hottie. Of course, the admiration went to his head. When the two of you had been paired to do a project together in biology, all he'd had to do was smile at you and you had done all of the work yourself.

Once you'd finished the project with a B+, Tyler had never spoken to you again. For nights upon nights you cried, broken hearted, but most importantly just ashamed. Humiliated. You'd sobbed into your mother's shoulder about how he'd used you and you felt such a fool. She'd allowed you to use her jumper as a tissue, rubbed her thumbs across your cheeks, and then she had pressed a kiss to your forehead and said: "One day you will find a boy that will see how beautiful you are. But if you don't, know that I see the beauty in you every day."

Your Mom hadn't been around to see that beauty since you were nineteen. Since the age of nineteen, you wandered the planet shutting others out because you were a dark thing. You believed there was no beauty in you- you knew you were attractive, sure, but it was more than that- and you didn't want to see the look in another person's eyes when they realised that they had figured you out wrongly. When they found the ugliness deep inside, ugly tangled black roots that suffocated your heart.

When Castle had come along, he had told you that you had gorgeous eyes.

Every inch the playboy façade, of course. But once you had told him of your mother's murderer, which lead most mean to back away, afraid of your dark tenacity, he had only grown more interested. You were a mystery he was never going to solve. Every step of the way he had your back- still does- and faced things perhaps he shouldn't have, dove into things he didn't belong in. And even with all of these things in your way, he promises you always, time and time again. Even with a bullet in your heart, blood soaking your clothes, death poisoning his life with every drop of your tears- He whispered _I love you_ as though you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and you believed it when everything you had ever known faded to black.

So when you jerk in Castle's arms to find Josh standing, watching, you search his eyes for any level of devotion there is in Castle's.

He's taking long strides forwards to you with nothing but a possessive look in his eyes. As though you are a piece of meat, a thing. And of course, if the situation were reversed, perhaps you would feel the same.

But then you look at Castle and you think of how you don't want him to be anything but happy. Even if he seeks comfort in those who are not you.

Castle's lips quirk slightly, his arm releasing your waist with an imperceptible sigh. It's too cold in this early autumn morning without the heat of his body against yours, his soft skin brushing your own. Right.

Josh is by your side instantly, his own arm smoothing around your waist, practically tugging you away. You resist, because it's wrong, and because he doesn't see, and you see now, you see what your mother did, you see what Castle sees, and you know what you deserve. You know that Josh is a nice guy. But you deserve what you want, because even with all of these terrible things you've done, you're far sorrier for them than you could ever admit.

"Kate… What's going on?" Josh asks, glancing between you and Castle, finally surrendering his attempt to hold you at the waist.

You swallow nervously, smoothing a hand subconsciously along the scars on your ribs, knowing them so well that it almost feels as though you can feel each bump, each rough edge of skin, through the layers of your clothing.

"Castle and I were just skipping stones." You say lightly.

Josh's eyes narrow.

"Didn't look like it to me."

"Josh-"

"Hey, Josh-"

"You have no right!" Josh cries, startling you, as Castle steps forward to speak. "You have no right to speak to me. To her. You have no right to be here."

Castle's face visibly crumples, his throat bobbing, making your heart ache to see. More than anything, though, you feel anger surfacing within you. How dare Josh speak to Castle in that way, as though Castle has ever done anything besides be supportive when she was desperate for comfort? And, more importantly, how dare he act as though he can dictate her- as though he can speak on her behalf, decide who she may or may not be friends with.

"Woah."

You step between him and Castle, watching the flare of his nostrils, finding a way to ignore the burning pain in your side.

"Are you trying to tell me that I'm not _allowed _to speak to Castle?"

"What? No. No, Kate, I would never tell you what to do. You know that."

The way Josh speaks, softly, his hands reaching up to cup your elbows, reminds you that perhaps you're thinking too pejoratively. Josh is a nice guy. He is. He's just not- Castle.

"Josh." You say quietly, staring into his eyes. "Castle is my friend. We've spoken about this."

Josh's jaw clenches, and you see by the look in his eyes that he remembers. That conversation had been both a variety of awkward and tense. He'd asked if there'd ever been anything more between you and Castle- In truth, there hadn't been. Not before Josh. There was the undercover kiss, but that was just undercover. That was fake.

The feelings you held deep down inside for him were not.

"Kate…"

You stare Josh down as he stares back at you, until finally he gives in, looking down at his shoes.

"You wanna tell me what the problem is, Josh?"

You're still aware of how Castle is witness to all of this. Outrageously aware that perhaps you should tell him to go inside. You don't want him to be a witness to this, you don't want him to blame himself, to think that this inevitable break up with Josh stems from his actions just now. This is just where the relationship had been headed all along.

"He- Kate- I- You got shot."

You place your hands on your hips, feeling the flames of pain licking at your ribs. "I know. I was there."

"It was his fault."

At first the words don't register.

They're not real because you don't understand them. You stare at Josh's mouth, watching the words break free but it's as though they're in another language, foreign to your ears.

Josh is still, watching you, hands lifting as though he has any right to touch you. You step back, once, twice, find that you collide into Castle and he catches you as he always does, as he always will.

Josh stares at his hands on your waist but when he tries to let go, you hold him in place.

"Who the _hell _do you think you are, Josh?"

Josh's jaw sets, eyes like fire as he continues to stare at Castle's hands. You are not a piece of meat. You are not anyone's possession. You can be friends with who you like.

You can fall in love with whoever you do.

"I'm your boyfriend."

You laugh, but it falls flat, bitter. "We haven't spoken in almost two months, Josh."

Castle's breath washes over the corner of your jaw, his hands flexing as though he's uncomfortable. You shudder and step back, closer into the circle of his arms, feel the tightening of his muscles, his nerves. But he is steady. He is holding you up. The pain is threatening the power of your legs and you just need this last moment of strength provided by him before you can fall.

"You pushed me away, Kate. Remember?" Josh says, stepping forward, voice patronizing. "I was busy with work, I'll admit it, but _you _pushed me away."

"And you thought you'd just turn up without warning me? Without checking it was okay, just because it fit _your _schedule? What was your plan, Josh, to pretend you can be here for me even though we both know you can't?"

"I was going to forgive you."

Castle's grip on your waist is fierce now, but you rest a hand on his, smoothing the skin there. This is not his battle. This is one you should've fought a long time ago.

"For what, Josh? For talking to Castle even if you didn't like it or getting shot?"

Josh's mouth falls open, shocked.

"That's not what I meant. I don't blame you for getting shot."

"But you blame Castle, and you told me how you felt about our friendship a long time ago. So, by association, you blame me, right?"

Josh runs a hand over his face, groaning. "Kate, I had to put my hand on your _heart. _I had to help remove a bullet from there. Do you have any idea what that was like for me?"

You swallow down the guilt. "I didn't ask for this."

Josh's eyes slide past you. "He didn't stop you."

"I make my own decisions." You say through gritted teeth. "I'm not gonna be ordered around. When are you gonna understand that?"

Light begins to fade from Josh's eyes. "Can we talk about this in private, please?"

"Josh…" You murmur. "There's nothing left to say."

Josh's expression morphs to one of disbelief. "Are you breaking up with me?"

"Yeah, Josh. I'm breaking up with you."

Josh's hands ball into fists by his sides, the accompanying scowl coupled with his height giving him an intimidating demeanor. But you have faced more than your fair share of killers, suffered the wounds of a gunshot. You can stare your now ex-boyfriend down. You can do this. With Castle holding onto you as though you are wonderful and precious, like some sort of rare artifact, you can do anything.

"You think he'll make you happy? Or will you use him like you used me: Allowed in your bed but not in your heart?"

It's a sneer. You don't rise to the bait.

"Don't be petty. You're a better man than this."

He is. You know it, and by the way he hesitates, you know he does too. But this just isn't working anymore. (It hasn't worked since the start, when your heart still belonged to another man, who was away in the Hamptons and never to return.)

"I'm sorry, Josh. But we both knew it was going to happen eventually."

He stands in almost stillness for a moment. Watching you. Watching Castle. And then he turns and walks away. And you are silent as he climbs into his car and slams the door, and you are silent as he starts the ignition, and you are silent as you watch his car turn into a small speck on the long road amidst the trees.

And you are silent as you turn to Castle, eyes wet, heart thumping, alive, and kiss the tears sliding down the crook of his nose.

* * *

**TBC**


	6. Chapter 6

**silence is star-like**

Your patience with me is astounding. Thank you for being such beautiful readers.

* * *

Her lips are soft and divine.

She is kissing your tears away.

Her fingers cup your jaw, trembling, the pads of her thumbs pushing into your skin, catching the moisture that her lips don't.

There is a moment of silence between the pair of you once she has kissed the tears away. Her fingers linger where they shouldn't, not with so much unsaid between you, not with so much space between your hearts. And her breath washes over your lips, making them part unintentionally, and when you open your eyes and find her just inches away from you, you have to resist the urge to capture her pink lips with yours.

Her eyes are so wide, so bright, tears clinging like dew to her eyelashes as they flutter. She doesn't move away, she almost seems to gravitate closer.

Your eyes are hazy with tears but she simply smiles through her tears at you and that makes it all okay.

"You wanna talk?" She murmurs, voice husky with tears.

Her fingers begin to stroke your jaw and you lean in, kissing her eyelids as they close. You do not care that this is breaching boundaries anymore. The boundaries had only been set in the first place because she was running but now that you are running with her, the lines are blurred, or perhaps there were never any lines at all and they were simply figments of your imagination. Perhaps _this_ has always simply been, but you were both too afraid to acknowledge it.

"In a minute. I just… Need a minute." You tell her, watching her watching you.

"Okay, Castle." She murmurs quietly, head falling onto your shoulder. "Okay."

You press your nose against her hair and instead of cherries you faintly smell firewood and saltwater. It shouldn't make your heart swell as much as it does.

You wrap your arms around this new version of the woman with the battered heart, and breathe.

* * *

She makes you coffee.

You both hole inside the cabin, playful mood from before now gone, no more skipping stones. You take a seat without saying a word, avoiding looking at her, but you can hear the soft sound of her feet padding against the floor. You study the novels lining the walls, so many books, and you're both simultaneously surprised yet unsurprised that you can differentiate between which ones are hers and which ones are her father's.

Before you know it, Kate's standing in front of you, and when you look up from her bare feet curling into the tatty rug on the floor to her face, your anger dissipates through your bloodstream. Her eyes are wide, earnest, and almost sorrowful as she holds out a mug for your hands, steam curling gently in the air between you.

Quietly, you accept the mug, its warmth almost filling you as completely as her arms wrapped around yours do.

"You wanna talk yet?" Kate murmurs quietly, unmoving, knees almost brushing yours.

You sigh imperceptibly, watching the way her hazel eyes flicker with a plethora of emotions. Do you ever want to talk? You two don't talk. You don't communicate. It's your rules.

But here she is, wide-eyed in front of you, reaching out for you, her lighthouse, and you need to shine the light that guides her safely home.

"Okay." You say softly. "Okay, let's talk."

Kate's lips quirk and then she moves away, hesitating for a fraction of a moment before she moves, settling on the couch adjacent to the chair you're sat in. She pulls her knees up and places her chin on them, arms wrapped around her legs, caramel hair softly falling across her face. It's straight today. And for the first time you notice how her cheekbones seem sharper this way, the line of her lips more serious and settled. But still there's a certain softness about her. Maybe it's because of how she curls in on herself like she is a child afraid of the dark, or because of the woolly cardigan she wears that almost swallows her whole, or maybe it's the way she looks at you- Like you're the final piece to a puzzle she didn't know she had been working on all along.

"You want me to start?"

You take a sip of your coffee and try not to wince. She's right. The coffee machine here really _is _terrible.

Kate smiles, continuing without waiting for your answer.

"I'm sorry you had to witness that, Castle." She says gently, eyes unwavering. "The truth is, I guess, I… I needed you."

You frown at her even as you remember the way she had held your hands to her waist, her body trembling infinitesimally beneath your touch. "Why?"

Her eyes grow wider. "You're my partner, Castle. If nothing else, you're my partner. And I needed you to have my back. You did. So… Uh, thank you." She clears her throat, picking at a loose thread from her leggings.

There's nothing left for you to say. And you can't look at her, because when you look at her you see how small she has become, and you can't help but think about how she would still be her normal self if perhaps you had been just that little bit faster, or perhaps none of this would've ever happened at all if you hadn't told her all those years ago _we can do it together _and had given her false hope. So you look away and down at the murky swirl of the coffee, nausea rolling through your stomach repeatedly, remembering the murky red stain her blood left on your hands even hours after it had happened.

"I'm sorry." You say, staring at the coffee, and you can feel her eyes on you. "About Josh. I know you liked him."

"I wasn't enough."

You resist the urge to look up at her.

"He was a nice guy. He was. But we didn't work. The only thing to be sorry for is that I let it go on for as long as I did."

You stroke a thumb across the plush fabric of the chair. Remember the smoothness of her cardigan beneath your fingertips, the small span of her waist compared to the size of your hands. How is someone so broken still so devastatingly beautiful?

"I'm sorry that he said those things to you, Castle. You don't deserve them."

Your head snaps up at that, finding her eyes imploring yours, as though she's seeking an answer you're unable to give.

"Maybe I do."

You remember the hospital and frayed tempers. Josh's hands on you, forceful, angry words and the flash of your daughter's red hair as she rose to your defence. Kate's blood on your hands, metaphorically and literally, as everyone around you turned towards you once the surgeon walked away, as though you had the answers, as though you knew whether she was still alive. For all you knew she could have stopped breathing.

Fighting the memories, you close your eyes, trying to forget the panic that had threatened to eat away at your heart. Sitting in a hospital chair with your mother's hand on your shoulder, praying to a God you've never believed in to let her stay, here, on this Earth, even if it's not with you. Because Kate Beckett cannot die, she cannot ever leave, she must always fight until there's nothing left to fight for. And then your mind and your mouth and your body turned to cotton wool as the doctor called out her father's name, heart thumping wildly in your chest because, for one split second, the look on his face had been morose enough for you to expect the words: _I'm sorry, we did all we could._

"Castle?"

Fingers wrap around your own, tentatively, yet with an undercurrent of strength, perhaps hope, or perhaps it's something none of your words could ever describe. You blink suddenly, finding that Kate is crouching before you, lower lip pulled between her teeth as her eyes begin to haze with tears again.

"This is _not _your fault. Do you hear me? None of this was ever your fault."

Her voice is strong but her reasoning is not.

"I pushed you to look into this."

One hand lifts from your fingers, curling around your jaw as she forces you to look at her. Her breath hitches.

"Castle, you tried to warn me, to stop me. You told me we couldn't win this but I carried on anyway."

"I should've tried harder." You insist, throat tight, power behind your words even though her expression forms one of disbelief. "I should've pushed more. How could I have expected you to give up thirteen years of grief just because _I asked_?"

Kate swallows roughly, the sound audible between you beside the quiet harshness of her breathing as her chest rise and falls, her grip tightening on you.

"You had every right. You still do. You make me stop seeing things so black and white, you make me stop seeing my life as some sort of revenge mission, you make me see… Rick, you… You. You make me see _you_. And you are all I _ever_ want to see."

Her eyes are so mesmerising even once they begin to leak with moisture. Most of the moisture creates a sheen of liquid across her eyes save for the solitary drop that runs down her cheek, you feel it rub against your knuckles as she raises your clasped hands to her lips and kisses your skin as though she cherishes you.

"You didn't shoot me. You didn't send the shooter after me. You saved me from the men that killed Montgomery. And you didn't kill my mother, Castle."

"I was too late to save you."

She whispers her next words against your skin: "It's never too late for you to save me."

The tender, longing ache in her words is palpable. Her eyes don't break away from yours.

Your eyes search hers for some sort of trick, some walls for her to hide behind again. But they are crystal clear.

"What's going on here, Kate?"

"Something. Everything. Nothing at all." She says vaguely, lips quirking.

"I- What are you trying to tell me?"

"How long are you going to stay, Castle?"

You're surprised at the sudden topic change, but follow the subject nonetheless, pressing your hand against her cheek.

"For as long as you need me."

"And if I need you forever?"

You smother your smile. If it were any wider it would cause you to shatter into a thousand confetti pieces, an overabundance of colours, just for her.

"Well, I suppose I could make do with that."

* * *

**TBC**


	7. Chapter 7

**silence is star-like**

**Note: **The next update may not be for another week. I turn 17 this Wednesday, so I'm going to be busy with my family. I thought I'd warn you in advance.

* * *

You pass four days without having any heavy conversations. You watch as the light fills her from the inside before it spills outwards, beams of light curling around you when her lips tilt, imbalanced, as though she's torn between smiling so much it will hurt and leaning across, puckering her lips and diving through the dust motes and kissing you senseless. There's nothing to stop her, after all, and if your lips touched then maybe the dust would stop tasting like dust but rather it would be like glitter. Perhaps you would shine. Almost as bright as she does. Even when her eyes flicker just a little as the moon settles high and you know she has to return to her nightmares. Even then, she shines.

Even when she settles her head on your shoulder, watches the stars, the moon, the dark purple and blue hues of the sky. Even when her cheek moves just a fraction and her shoulders lift and she breathes you in. Even in all of these moments when she is not completely whole, she shines.

And so you pass four days and watch her shine and all the while, you learn to be a mirror. Hoping one day she will see herself the way that you see her.

Or maybe she already does. But there's just so much light she blinds herself from the truth.

Maybe that's beautiful.

Or maybe that's just incredibly sad.

* * *

She actually makes you drive out for coffee. Not every morning. But on the fourth day of going free of heavy conversations, you wake up to find her fresh-faced, hair hanging around her face naturally and eyes free from make-up, making her eyes look wider and younger. And it occurs to you that she's more comfortable around you than she ever has been. But the thought is muted by how awake she is as you shuffle into the room. And then she grabs your hands and places your keys in your palm, firmly, giving you no choice, and before you know it she's leaning on the car with a wry smile flirting on her lips as she waits for you.

It's not far. A twenty minute drive away, at most. A pleasant café neatly hidden between a clump of trees on the side of a quiet road, empty save for the few fishermen that frequent it.

Instead of grabbing some coffee and leaving, she pulls you out to the small, unsteady silver tables around the back, overlooking another lake in another part of the forest. This one is peaceful, undisturbed by human recreation, lily pads floating daintily on the water. And you're watching her as she's watching them float, coffee in her hands forgotten, eyes alight.

"I never appreciate it." She says.

She's biting her lips.

"Appreciate what?"

"The beauty. Even as a little kid and we came out here, I took it all for granted."

"It's human nature." You tell her. "After all, we don't know what we have until we've lost it- Right?"

Her tank top is loose on her from the weight loss. You're speaking directly to the top of her scar that pokes free of the hem, it glares at you.

Kate turns to you. You return your gaze to her eyes. They're turning upwards, encouraged by her small smile.

"No. No, I don't think that's true."

You tilt your head to the side. "No?"

She purses her lips thoughtfully, as though there are words caught on the tip of her tongue, and she doesn't know how to let them free.

"Do I have to lose you, Castle?"

Her hand is resting atop the table and it's so very hard to resist covering her hand with your own.

"No." You say, emotion clogging your voice. "No, you don't."

Her lips quirk, hand turning upward, palm reaching. Your hands slide together easily, palms kissing, her fingers curling around your hand as the very tip of your index finger presses against her pulse. A steady thrum.

There is no way you would ever let her lose you. There is no way you'd ever leave, not now, with her smiling at you with not only her lips but her eyes and her hand wrapped around yours, as though she's holding you to her.

But if you ever did, you'd always find each other again

Suddenly, something plops on your hand, and you look up from your hands, startled, to find Kate's lips opening, a beautiful sound escaping from her lips. Laughter.

She looks up at the sky, blue interrupted by shades of white, eyes wide as she drinks it in, that laughter spilling out of her as though it won't stop now that she's let it out. You wonder how often she lets herself bask in her mirth. Allows herself to forget about her ghosts. For a moment.

"Oh." She says, voice full of wonder. "It's raining."

The drops are light, plopping onto her cheeks as though her smile could possibly be imprinted on them and kept forever, framed in a museum like the work of art it is.

And so you sit, hand in hers, watching the rain land lightly on her face with the steady thrum of her pulse beneath your fingertips, alive.

* * *

Later, as you pull up at the cabin, the laugh lines are still marking her face. You try to hand her your coat as she's merely wearing a tank top and jogging bottoms, but she shoves it away, rolling her eyes, damp strands of hair already sticking to her cheeks.

You leave the car with every intention of running straight for the cabin, but as you fumble to pull your coat over your head, you see how she simply climbs out and stands. In the rain. Eyes closed. Smile wide.

You clamber from the car, locking it behind you and beginning to rush over to the cabin, but you stop, rain pounding against your coat.

You turn, watching her, and she is soaked to the bone. Her tank top clings to her skin, hair stuck to her face as she tilts her chin upwards, eyes closing, and arms stretched wide. Her exuberance is astounding. She looks insuperable. Effervescent. Everything.

Some part of you wants to stay like this forever, with a Katherine Beckett who believes in herself, watching her endlessly. Another part of you wants to leave- Leave her to this, because you feel like an outsider, watching something private, the way she heals herself. But the more rational part of you forces your feet forwards, mind ticking over the numerable infections she could be opening herself up to, studying how frail and thin her body has become.

"Kate." You say as you approach her, hand reaching out to touch her back.

Kate turns to you, rain painting patterns on her cheeks.

"It's beautiful, isn't it? It just comes all at once. It's kinda overwhelming."

"You need to come inside, Kate."

Her hand grips your bicep, coalescing the pair of you together even through the layers of your clothing.

"Appreciate it. Appreciate it all, Castle." She tells you, eyes bright. "Everything that is thrown at you. Just one more stepping stone."

You blink at her in astonishment, speechless.

And as you stand there, the rain washes away the blood from another day, until both of your eyes are clear. And then the ghosts are gone.

* * *

Kate emerges from her room after taking a shower, hair curling damply around her shoulders, wearing a loose top and leggings, a few tapes in hand. You turn on the spot, placing back a copy of Bukowski onto its original spot on the shelf.

"Castle?"

Her voice is quiet, a hopeful lilt to it.

"Yeah?"

"Will you… Watch these? With me?"

She holds the tapes up with one hand while the other points a finger towards the small television tucked in the corner, covered by a layer of dust, barely used. You can't figure out why her expression is so peculiar, so hesitant.

"Sure."

She smiles at you, brightly, before she settles before the television and plucks a tape from its container. A wince covers her face.

"Will you… Help me?"

You're by her side in an instant, kneeling beside her and taking the tape from her hand. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah." She says quietly. "Yeah, I'm just a little tired. That's all."

Your hand reaches up of its own accord and brushes her forehead. "Do you feel nauseous? Too hot? You don't _feel_ like you have a fever, but you may have caught a cold from the rain and-"

"Castle." She chuckles, fingers wrapping around your wrist and pulling your hand away. "I'm fine. I just get tired easier now, but I'm getting better. You know that."

"Sure." You say, not even bothering to play nonchalant. "I know that."

She smiles, doesn't bother hiding it, pressing a kiss to your palm before letting go.

You have to turn away from her so that she doesn't catch the shock on your face. You don't want to knock her confidence any further. So when you look down at the tape, you're surprised to find_ 'KATIE'S FIRST SUMMER IN THE CABIN – '87'_ written in capital black letters.

"Kate?" Your voice is a mixture of everything you feel bubbling inside of you. "Are these… Are these family tapes?"

Kate sighs heavily when you look up at her.

"I've never watched them. I have my memories of my mother. Plenty. And videos won't remind me how she always smelt of cinnamon, like she'd just walked out of a bakery. Or how when she hugged me after I came home with my school report, she'd hide her tears by hugging my tight and refusing to let go. For a while." She looks down at her hands. "But… I want to watch them. I don't need to punish myself anymore."

She is so extraordinary. You want to tell her, but the words get stuck.

So instead you push the tape into the player and take her hand, helping her up as the video loads and you both head over to the sofa, waiting patiently. She doesn't let go of your hand, instead grips it tightly, as though it's the only thing that matters.

The video comes to life, a child's laughter tinkling right away as a shaky shot of the lake is filmed. You can't tear your eyes away from the screen, but you feel Kate's hand tighten around your own, telling you enough.

The video moves to a small, dark-haired child of only six or seven, giggling as she tears a small fistful of bread from a loaf and throws it at a cluster of ducks nearby. It misses the ground, instead smacks one of them straight in the head.

You roar with laughter even when Kate digs her elbow into your side. "Shut up."

"Oh but it's so _cute, _Kate."

"I bet when you were seven, you were trying to make _friends _with the ducks. I bet you'd go home and write stories about them and their duck adventures."

You place a hand over your heart. "I'm wounded, detective." You say. "I wrote the stories in my head the moment I saw the ducks."

She laughs, pressing a finger against your lips. "Shh."

The pair of you turn back to the screen, hearing the chuckle of Jim over the speakers. "Good try, Katie." He says, on screen.

From nowhere, a young Johanna appears near the child version of Kate, squatting beside her daughter and throwing a clump of bread to the grass. Young Kate pays rapt attention to her mother, tongue poking out as she grabs another piece and throws, overarm, this time the bread landing in the lake even though the ducks have walked onto the land.

You feel Kate- real, alive, adult Kate- go still, hand clenching yours.

Johanna slides a hand across her daughter's back, smiling when young Kate looks at her but glaring up at Jim behind the camera when she looks away. "You'll do it, Katiebug. Try again."

This time, young Kate on-screen manages to land the bread just millimetres away from the duck. On the grass. The young girl cheers, throwing her hands up in the air as she jumps up and down, little body wiggling. You can't stop watching, eyes wide, wondering how such an innocent, carefree child managed to grow into Kate Beckett with all her ghosts.

"See?" Johanna says, pressing a kiss to her daughter's hair. "I told you so."

The video fades from the screen until you're staring at the reflection of yourself and Kate on the television. There are tears staining her cheeks.

You turn to her, brushing them away with your thumb, heart aching at her sadness but pounding at how willing she is to share this with you.

"You okay?" You murmur. "You can save the rest until later, if it's too much."

She shakes her head. "No. No, I'm okay." She says. "It's just- It's weird, I suppose. All these little moments I don't remember."

You nod, moving back over to the television, this time inserting a tape labelled _'COOKIE BAKING - '95'._

When you settle down next to Kate, she shivers slightly, pressing her cheek against your shoulder. So you pull down the crotched blanket from the back of the sofa and wrap it around the pair of you, watching as the video begins, revealing a teenaged Kate covered in flour standing next to her mother, smiling as though there is no such thing as tears or death or heartbreak.

And you feel Kate smiling into your shoulder even as her own tears continue to fall, whispering 'thank you' into your shoulder again and again and again.


	8. Chapter 8

**silence is star-like**

(RE-UPLOAD: This chapter was broken by fanfiction a couple hours after it was posted. Some of you may have already read this.)

You guys make me grin so much. Thank you for all the birthday wishes. Special thanks to Audrey, who thinks she's my one-chapter muse, but really she's my _every_-chapter muse.

* * *

You wake to a pounding heart, but it's not the bad kind.

The room around you is dimly lit, the sky outside halfway between darkness and light, sneaking through the blinds as though it's trying not to wake you, a gentle lover. You sigh, turning over to face the clock, finding that it's only four am. Huh.

The sheets around your legs are uncomfortable, sticky with sweat and as you're pushing them off of you and squirming to find a comfier position, you're already forgetting the dream that woke you. Not a nightmare. The nightmares stay with you. They haunt you through the day; cling to you as though you're a magnet. A magnet for all the disastrous, broken things out there in this world. Not so much fun.

So. Not a nightmare. And your heart is now slowing to its normal pace as you settle back down in bed, pillow against your cheek as you close your eyes, the memory of your dream forming in your mind. Castle's hidden in the memory. Not that this particular fact comes as any surprise. And there's a feeling curling low in your stomach, something like-

Oh.

Your cheeks flush, eyes opening wide. _Oh_. Definitely not a nightmare.

You laugh lightly, because even in your darkest time, you're still thinking of him. The way you used to. Before Josh. Before Will. All the time in between. But oh- He does have such very large hands, doesn't he?

Rubbing a hand across your eyes, you smile wryly. The man has you wrapped around his little finger and he doesn't even know it. Not that you'll ever tell him. You'll always act as though it's you that wears the pants in any future relationship the two of you may or may not have.

"Damn, Castle."

You pull the covers back over your body and don't even bother trying to block him out of your mind as you close your eyes to sleep.

* * *

"Good morning, Beckett."

You're curled up in one of the chairs reading when he leaves his room, hair sticking on edge. You bite your lip, looking back down to the page because you can't help but think how his hair looks exactly as it did in your dream. With your hands running through the soft locks in a version of many dreams you've had that are far too hot for words and are definitely not decent to think about when in the company of the man you just spent the night fantasizing about.

He pauses. "Are- Are you okay?"

You look up again, feeling the heat on your cheeks.

"Hm?"

"You're blushing."

"I- Uh- I am?"

Smooth, Beckett.

"Yeah. You, uh, you don't have a fever, do you?"

His hand reaches out for your forehead, so calmly, in a completely unromantic gesture. But you jerk away from his touch, keenly aware of the way that he frowns at you.

It's not fair. The power that he holds over you, the power that he doesn't even know that he has. But you just- You need some space right now. Actual physical space, not the emotional kind. Because your dream is still so fresh in your mind and so _vivid _that you fear that if he touches you, you may just jump his bones right now. And there's still so much to sort through. You're not ready yet.

But… Soon. You can feel it. The anchor holding your heart low- Its chain is loosening. There's a possibility for someday.

"I don't have a fever, Castle." You answer him eventually.

He doesn't move for a moment, watching you carefully, before his hand retracts and he forces a smile.

"Okay." He says lightly.

Then he moves on, into the kitchen area and raiding the fridge. You most certainly are not staring at his rear end as he bends down. Nope. Not at all. Eyes on the words in front of you, Beckett.

"Ugh." You hear him groan loudly. You try to block it out, focusing on the words in front of you, even as they're sliding away from you as though they're in a foreign language.

"Beckett?"

Okay. No space it is. But that's okay, you can deal with that. You're used to him pushing. And you'd always been able to handle this before, seeing him after those dreams of yours that made you blush so much and cross your legs. Naturally, you'd been ashamed of those dreams then. Now… Not so much.

"Yeah?"

You shut the book, placing it in your lap as you look over to find that he's staring at you with his bottom lip stuck out. Pouting.

"There's no food."

"Yes there is."

"There _isn't._"

"Castle. There's food in the fridge."

"Beckett." He whines like a little boy.

You roll your eyes, placing the book on the table beside you as you stand, walking over to him. He moves out of the way as you stoop to look in the fridge and- Oh. Okay.

There isn't any food. Nothing edible, anyway. Just empty packets you've the habit of placing back in there.

"Okay." You concede. "Okay, there's no food."

"I'm _hungry_."

You turn to him, eyebrow raised. "Go out to get something, then."

"Yeah but what about when I want lunch? And dinner? I can't just keep going out for food, Beckett."

"Ugh. Fine."

You pinch the bridge of your nose, calming the beat of your heart. It's too domestic. Shopping. _Grocery_ shopping with Castle. But it's necessary. You need a lift, you can't get there by yourself, and you most definitely can't be lifting that many groceries by yourself. Not that you'd buy very intelligently, either. Mostly packet food, microwavable that fits in with your on-the-go lifestyle. Never any time to just stop and. Breathe.

"Go get dressed, Castle."

His eyes light up, shutting the refrigerator door. "We're going shopping?"

"Why is that so much fun to you?"

He smirks. "Oh, Kate, you have no idea what you've let yourself in for."

* * *

You have no idea what you've let yourself in for.

Shopping with Castle is _Hell. _He acts like a toddler, picking anything that catches his eye without looking at the price, throwing it in the trolley when he thinks that you're not looking. You bicker over the most inane of things, and it's the first time you've ever seen such a stubborn side to Castle. You catch him trying to dump half of the things you've chosen as you walk down another aisle to get a carton of juice.

Overall, it's the best shopping trip you've ever experienced.

Naturally, you argue over who will pay.

"Half of this is my stuff, Beckett-"

"That's because you _threw half of mine _out-"

"You wouldn't let me keep the lucky charms!"

"You don't even _eat _cereal, Castle."

"Maybe I do. Maybe I don't."

"You have been living in the cabin for a week now, Castle. You've not touched any of the cereal there."

"That's because it's rabbit food. _C'mon,_ Beckett, who actually eats muesli? Does that even count as a cereal?"

"Just let me pay, would you?"

"No. I'm paying."

"For God's sake, you're not actually going to _eat _half of this stuff."

"Is that a challenge? Because, oh boy, is that accepted."

You growl, pushing the hair away from your face, staring up at him and watching as his expression morphs to one of childlike glee. "Fine. You pay, Castle. I'm going to wait in the car."

"Am I being given the silent treatment?"

_"Castle."_

"Okay, okay, I'm going."

He pushes the trolley to the nearest counter and as you walk away you hear the server say something along the lines of '_girlfriends, eh?_', only making your feet stomp harder. At some point, you think you hear Castle laughing, making you blush red at the tips of your ears.

The breeze wraps around you as you enter the parking lot, and too late you realize you don't have the keys. You sigh, leaning against the car, too stubborn and too damn full of your own pride to go back there and ask for the keys. Especially in front of a server like _that. _No. You're happy to people watch.

There's nobody _to_ watch however. A little girl practically falls out of her car and grips her father's hand, skipping into the store singing about sweets. Other than that, you're achingly alone, and that's bad. Because then you start noticing things. The things that you shouldn't, the things that set you off, and you close your eyes against it but then _it _begins and you know that you're not going to escape this.

A noise behind you. Slamming. You startle, turning to find that it's just someone shutting the boot of their car as they prepare to leave. Your heart is in your throat anyway, even as you're trying to swallow it down, ease away the panic.

You're fine. This is safe. Here. This is a place that has never been tainted by blood. And that won't start today.

Silver. A flash. In the corner of your eye. The rational part of your mind begs you to ignore it but you're turning anyway, watching the glint from the store doors, the way it bounces, leads on to the shop windows, onto car windows, cars passing by, so much, too much, and it's right before your eyes and you're waiting for it; you're waiting for the sharp jolt in your chest; you're waiting for the way the noose around your heart that tightens; you're waiting for a body colliding with yours; you're waiting for the blood; you're waiting for the end.

You gasp, coming to your senses but not quite. No. No- You won't.

"Not here." You say through gritted teeth, noose around your heart so tight now and it's so very hard to breathe. "Oh God, please not- Please not here."

But your legs are beginning to tremble and no matter how many times you try to breathe normally the way your father taught you from the first time, it doesn't work. Your lungs have forgotten how to breathe.

There's no air. Where is all the air? You're gasping for it, hands reaching up to tug your coat off, because maybe that's what's making it so hot out here, maybe that's what's making the damn air so restricting.

Nothing. It's still hard. And there's a thousand memories flashing before your eyes all filtered into one like grains of sand forming a beach. You're being buried beneath the sand and nobody is coming to rescue you.

"I-" What? You what?

Your legs tremble so you turn, gripping the roof of the car until your knuckles turn white. As pale as your skin after your life had bled from you, all your years of experience amounting to nothing, futile blood being the only thing left.

"Beckett?"

Oh God. No. Please. No.

He can't be here. He was there for _that_ and he can't be here for _this_ as the tears come hot and fast and your breathing comes so irregularly. No.

"Kate?"

"I- Castle-"

Your brain can't form the words _go away. _All connections between your neurons and all those dazzling lights of electricity have become lost. Much like you.

There's another loud slamming noise and you startle so hard that you fall to the ground of the parking lot, even as your hand reaches out for something to hold onto, something to keep you grounded. There's just empty air. Nobody can save you now.

The words _I'm sorry _are caught on your tongue and everything is a blur, everything is nonsense and screaming is ringing loudly in your ears. You know that it's just memories. You know that. But it's there nonetheless and so is your racing heart.

Your hands curl in on themselves, trembling, as you sit there with wide eyes. How can you stop this? Everything is so lost-

"Kate. Look at me."

You blink slowly and manage to forget the bullet and the pain and the screaming for just one moment.

Castle's voice is leading you home.

He's crouching in front of you, face ashen, eyes serious as they lock with yours.

"Kate. Can you hear me?"

You nod, not trusting your words right now.

He takes your trembling hands cautiously, keenly aware of your tumbling mind. It makes the pounding in your heart less frightened but more in awe. But the panic is still there. The panic is always there. Can you ever escape it? Will you ever escape it?

"Castle." You rasp, because it's the only thing you know, salt tears staining your cheeks, ground uncomfortable beneath you.

"I'm here, Kate." His voice is so patient, so soft. "Focus on me."

You try to focus on his eyes but they're too much like the sky. Too much. You don't want to remember that day. You wish you could just forget.

You close your eyes, shivering, but then Castle's hands are on your chin.

"Katherine Houghton Beckett, _look _at me."

Your eyes open in surprise, jaw slack. His eyes are so fierce.

You reach out without thinking, rest a palm on his chest, over his heart. It's thrumming, slower than yours, but there. He's okay. He's alive.

You're alive. You escaped.

"You're going to be okay. Do you hear me, Kate? You're always going to be okay. I promise."

You focus. The way that he told you to. You focus on his heart and you try to slow your own, you focus on his hands, so gentle, so unrushed like they were before.

That noose around your heart. He unpicks it. With that same patience he's always had that makes you want to cry, makes you want to love him in all the ways you're not ready to yet. He unpicks it thread by thread of rope, until the noose is gone, as though it had never been there in the first place.

"Castle." You whisper, heart slower than it was before, tears no longer falling. But you tremble, hand reaching up to touch his lips. The source of those three words you cling to. "Castle, I lied. I do remember. I remember everything."

How could you forget?

"I'm sorry. Castle, I'm so _sorry_."

He smiles, like he knew all along. "It's okay, Kate."

"You've got to understand-"

"I do." He tells you, arms reaching out to tuck you into his chest, and you don't care that you're in a parking lot in the middle of the day, and you don't care that people are watching, and you don't care that you're a grown woman who almost lost her mind.

He understands.

You smile, press your hand against his heart, and breathe.

* * *

**TBC**


	9. Chapter 9

**silence is star-like**

Thus marks the penultimate chapter. This story was never meant to be excessive in length, as it was only ever an experiment. It has, however, been welcomed so kindly by readers. Thank you so very much. If you're interested, I would always consider using this kind of style again in another fanfiction. For now, I hope you enjoy.

* * *

Katherine Houghton Beckett is a beautifully complex woman, and you're only just beginning to realise it.

Of course, you'd always known that she's complex, and you'd always known that she's beautiful. Those eyes- so wide and doleful and they just sucked you right into her own personal whirlwind until you couldn't escape even if you wanted to- were the first things that you had noticed about her. You're a little ashamed to admit it, but of course at first, it was how attractive she was more than anything. There was a story there and you knew it, but the way her long legs strut across the floor when she was pissed, all ruffled short hair and heaving chest, had been enough to distract you.

And complex- Oh, of course you'd known that. She didn't make sense. She shouldn't be a detective. Until you found out another layer, and then another, and another. She wasn't as closed off as she had appeared to be before. She was a romantic. She was a comic book fan. She was drowning in her mother's case. She was an enigma wrapped up in mystery compressed into high collars and stuffy suits.

But now this is how you learn that these two qualities are not mutually exclusive. She is beautifully complex. She breaks down in a parking lot because of the flash of a window. She tilts her head back when she laughs, as though she is so free that it travels through her body, starting from her toes until her whole body is alight, ending with the half-kiss of her wind chime laughter.

Katherine Houghton Beckett is a beautifully complex woman and you are in love with her.

"Castle?"

You blink, see that she's watching you over the top of a Patterson book, crinkling at the edges from her smile.

"Yeah?"

There's a beat of silence, and then she's tucking her knees beneath her, all Sunday morning domesticity and bright eyes.

"Hmm. Nothin'."

Katherine Houghton Beckett is a beautifully complex woman and you are in love with her and this is how:

Endlessly.

* * *

"Beckett! Beckett! I got it! I did it! Beckett!"

You jump and down on the spot, reeling in your line the way that Bill has been teaching you for the past hour, Kate sitting idly by her own line. She watches you with a smile, that way she's been doing lately- Free of guilt. You notice it in her body, too, the way her shoulders are looser, the way her body curls into yours when she hugs you, warmth and beauty and complexity.

"You haven't reeled it in yet, Castle." Kate says, amused. "You could still lose it."

"Me? Beckett, I am the _master o_f fishing."

You bounce on the tips of your toes, struggling when the line begins to tug dangerously, ignoring the way that Kate laughs at you. You'll show her. You can fish. It's _easy. _It must be. It's just you, a fish, and a line with bait on the end of it. It can't be_ that_ hard.

"I'm doing it! Beckett, look, I- I…" The line goes limp, and you find yourself frowning. "Why isn't it tugging anymore?"

Kate tries to smother her smile with one palm, eyes twinkling. "You pulled too soon, Castle. The fish got away."

You finally finish reeling your line in, and it rises pathetically out of the water, no fish.

"It got away with your bait, too." Kate teases, biting her tongue.

Oh. Oh, you wish she wouldn't. Not when there's so little keeping you apart nowadays. It's getting harder to understand why there's a distance between you anymore.

You look away, pouting at your line. Fishing is stupid, anyway. Who actually enjoys fishing?

"Well, it's not like you're doing any better." You point out. "We've been sat here for twenty minutes and you've not even come close to catching anything, Beckett."

Beckett hums calmly. It's almost infuriating how confident she is.

"Fishing is a sport of patience, Castle, if you hadn't figured that out yet."

"Oh, I can be patient."

Her eyes flash up to yours, wide and doleful and as always, sucking you in, and then you are lost in the green and brown swirl, so lost that it becomes your home. She is everything.

"I know, Castle." She murmurs quietly. "I know."

The two of you turn silent, subtext thick and heavy in the air. And this is when your heart begins to pound in your ears, your hands sweating, because her eyes shift from sadness to anticipation in the space of her words. And you've forgotten why you're waiting. The waiting is done. You are running together. Surely, now is the time to start your always?

"Kate, I-"

"Good luck next time, writer guy." Bill interrupts loudly, startling you as he claps you on the shoulder, squeezing firmly. "Maybe Katie here will give you some tips."

You scoff, quickly recovering from the interruption as Kate blushes, clearing her own throat. Huh. Had she been waiting for you to make your move, then and there?

"She's even worse than me. I bet all the fish are under there, eating away at her bait, and she doesn't even know it. I bet they're laughing at her."

Kate glares at you as Bill laughs, eyes flashing dangerously.

"Just you wait, Castle."

"Katie here has been kicking her Dad's ass at fishing since she was eleven years old." Bill tells you, grinning. "Learned from her Mom."

You look at Kate, waiting for the inevitable sadness to cross her face, but it doesn't. She just narrows her eyes at Bill.

"Mom only taught me because you and Dad were convinced it wasn't something little girls should be doing. Maybe if you hadn't been so ignorant about it, I wouldn't have learned from the best and would've instead had measly helpings from you and Dad, and you might be better than me."

Bill belly-laughs as she finishes, stepping forward to ruffle her hair. She laughs too, slapping him away light-heartedly. And all the time you are watching her, cataloging how she scrunches her nose, the way the right corner or her lips quirks up first, the way she loves the few people she has in her life as though they are any more worthy than she is.

And when she turns away from Bill, catches you watching, she looks at you the way she looks at her coffee when you pass it to her over a dead body at four in the morning. Like you're her constant. The way you've always wanted to be. A way that's both new and familiar and has been there all along, you've only just noticed it.

Something traps in your lungs, but then she's turning away, grabbing her rod and reeling in the line.

Suddenly, her line emerges from the water, sparkling with the reflection of the morning sun, with a fish on the end, and there is nothing but the way her laugh encompasses all there ever has been, the way your heart simultaneously contracts and explodes with the ferocity of your love for her.

Bill claps a hand on your shoulder again as Kate's laughing and throwing smug insults over her shoulder.

"Do me a favour, son?"

You look at him, observing how seriously he's watching you.

"Keep doin' whatever it is you're doin' to make her laugh like that. She hasn't laughed like that since her Mom got killed."

Your throat closes, but the words _I Love Her _rise anyway.

* * *

Kate giggles, actually giggles, as you walk along the path back to her father's cabin at midday.

"Oh, you should've seen your face, Castle." She says, all smug and bright eyes and speaking enthusiastically with her hands. Alive. "I can't believe you thought I couldn't fish. I used to come here every summer as kid. I mean, c'mon, Castle."

She looks up at you, ignoring the beautiful landscapes and the sound of the lapping water and everything that she has ever cherished, as though you could possibly provide her with more joy.

"_Used _to. Besides, I never would've pegged you for the fishing type. It's not exactly gripping."

Kate smiles, places her hands in her pockets. "I only learned so that I could teach them a lesson."

"Ah. You've had that stubborn streak since a kid, huh?"

"Oh, absolutely."

"And here I was thinking you were just playing hard to get."

Kate's smile splits you in two, gluing you back together again with that laughter, tipping her head back. You watch, resisting the urge to rest a hand on her lower back, to catch that tendril of hair escaping her bun and fluttering against her cheek, to swallow the pearl of her laughter with your lips and listen as it morphs into a moan.

Instead, she finishes her laughter and reaches out, tangling her fingers with yours. Your heart rises to your throat and you do not swallow it down. Let it speak.

"Nobody's ever found my stubbornness attractive before, Castle."

"I write mystery novels for a living, Beckett. Surely you knew that I'm not attracted to anything normal."

Kate raises her eyebrows at you. "Are you saying I'm not normal?"

Oh. Oh, she's good. She even slackens her grip on your hand.

"Oh no, I am not answering that trick question. This is _just _like the 'does my butt look good in this' question."

Kate tilts her head at you, puzzled. "How is that in any way similar?"

"Well, neither have an actual answer. If a guy answered with a yes, the woman would be insulted, and if they said no, then the woman would claim they're lying."

"So how does that link to my question?"

"Well, if I say yes, then you'll be insulted. But if I say no, then I'll be lying. Because you, Katherine Beckett, are not normal." You pause, tongue working around your heart caught in your throat. "There is nothing even vaguely normal about you. You're extraordinary. In every single sense. There are no words for you, no matter how hard I try, no matter how many times I try to show it in Nikki Heat. I can't believe you could even ask such a question. So… No, you're not normal, and don't you dare ever think you are."

Finally. You can tell her. Out loud, not just a passing note in a dedication.

You haven't realised that the pair of you have stopped until she's standing in front of you, heart in her eyes, mouth slack.

Even just a few days ago, you would be apologising profusely for overstepping, for making her uncomfortable. But why should you? It's true. She's extraordinary. And she knows that you love her. She remembers. And that's okay. So why would you ever pretend differently? Why would you be miles away from anything you've ever known, fingers tangled with hers, walking down a bumpy path that leads to a cabin that feels too much like home now if she meant anything less to you than love?

"Castle." Her voice is raw, eyes wide, as though it's the first word she's ever spoken, the only thing she's ever known.

You raise your hand to her face, finally tucking that tendril of hair behind her ear. She blushes beneath your touch, rosy cheeks the same colour as your furiously beating heart.

"I'm not sorry, Kate." You tell her. "I will never apologise for the way I feel."

"I don't want you to be." She insists immediately, desperate, hand crushing yours.

There's something in her eyes that wasn't there before. Something murky becoming clear.

"Castle, I don't ever want to you to be sorry, to be ashamed, to feel you've overstepped the mark, okay? I want you to say how you feel. I want you to be you. You'll do that, right? You'll be you?"

Her hand rises, grips the lapel of your jacket. Fingers curling, brushing over your heart.

"Yeah, Kate." You murmur. "I'll never be anything but that."

Relief flickers across her face like an open flame, eyes fluttering with the weight of it. And then she's smiling, smiling wider than you've ever known.

"For the record, Castle, you're not exactly short of not normal yourself."

You feel it. The weight of all the things left unsaid that she's not quite ready to say yet. These whisperings that suffocate her because she's never learned how to communicate, and here, before you, for you, she is trying. She is reaching out for you, putting in the effort, diving in. Together.

"Kate…"

You're stunned. There's no other way to describe it.

"Castle?"

Kate pushes up on her toes, all enchantress eyes and supermodel body, so close to yours, lips brushing against your chin. This is your moment. And this is when she speaks the words against your skin as though she is confessing a secret, whispers quieter than silence and louder than your words:

"Kiss me."

* * *

**TBC**


	10. Chapter 10

**silence is star-like  
**

Thank you for all of your support throughout this fic. I hope you've enjoyed it and that this last chapter lives up to expectations. For those of you that are my regular readers, I'll be on holiday from 20th July - 3rd August. I will not be posting any new stories until I get back- on the bright side, I'll be returning with the (apparently) long-awaited sequel for 'Heart So Helpless'. Feel free to tweet me anytime, my (new) username is _closingdoors.

* * *

Your heart has grown wings and taken to flight.

Here. Now. This is everything.

The way the breath catches in his throat, the way his eyes glaze over, the way the twitter of the birds and the rustling of the wind whooshes in your ears until everything is silent.

This.

When he steps forwards, pauses, steps closer once again.

When his hands cup your cheeks slowly, thumbs pressing against the corners of your lips, throat bobbing with nerves.

When your breath stops and he leans down and he smudges his lips against yours like ink-

Oh.

_This._

You are jumbled thoughts as stars and constellations implode inside of you, whispered thoughts from your heart and between your lungs, rising and rising to your lips.

You reach up, curl a hand at his shoulder, press your lips firmly against his, deepening the kiss.

Here are all the things you want to say.

Compressed into everything.

You close your eyes and live.

* * *

She kisses you back.

She asks you to kiss her and then she _kisses you back._

Her hand grips your shoulder. Fierce. Like she knows nothing more.

Her lips are soft and sweet and then her tongue-

Your hand falls from her cheek, grips her waist tightly.

And then _this._

* * *

When your lips part slowly, unwillingly, you stand close, breathing him in, eyes closed, forehead pressed against his.

"Kate…"

Your hand lifts from his shoulder, cups his cheek as you calm your breathing. So much. So many words to say. Tumbling around and around in your heart. Can he hear? Can he always hear?

* * *

Her breath stutters, and before you have time to register anything, she's throwing her arms around your shoulders and hiding her face in the crook of your neck, shaking gently.

"Kate?"

* * *

He's a patient man. He doesn't ever push. He doesn't ever ask for more than you give him.

But. If he asked.

You would give him everything.

* * *

"I'm sorry." She says, muffled by the skin of your neck. "I'm sorry."

You cup the back of her skull, fingers gently skimming through her hair. Give her time. Anchor your other hand around your waist until she is moulded to you. Grip her tightly. Press your own face to her shoulder. Never let her go.

These are the steps for loving Kate Beckett.

Patiently.

* * *

Why are you crying? You're ridiculous. Here he is. Here is your strength. Why are you crumbling?

The fortresses around your heart are putting up a fight.

How foolish of you to think for one moment that perhaps they were made of sand.

* * *

She breathes, and so you pull away.

She stands before you, red-eyes, shaking like a leaf, timid smile on her lips. You don't push. You don't breathe a word. You keep one hand cupping her skull. You wait. You could spend an eternity watching the delicate architecture of her face, every slope, curve, sharp line of her, juxtapositions and contradictions tied together like smooth satin ribbon.

"I go back to work in a week." She says quietly, sadly.

"I know."

"You'll be there?"

"Always."

* * *

No. No, he can't just say things like that and expect you to be okay.

You reach down, tangle your fingers with his once again, skin so smooth. He does have such very soft hands. Lips. Skin.

"I'm scared, Castle." You confess, eyes on your hands.

* * *

"What are you scared of?" You ask gently, squeezing her hands.

Her eyebrows pinch together, lips pursing, like she's trying not to cry. You wait. You'll always wait for her.

Nobody else ever has.

* * *

There are so many things to be afraid of. There are some many challenges in this world. You're afraid that if you give him your heart, he might break it, or worse- You might break his all over again. But perhaps it's too late for these anxieties. You know that there's no going back. You've given him your heart already. You hadn't even realised it, until one day you woke up and he was the first thought on your mind, and there was never any going back.

You're afraid that you might not be enough for him. You're afraid that all he's in love with is the chase, the dance. You're afraid that you'll go back to work and get sucked into your mom's case and won't come back out. You're afraid that he'll leave. You're always afraid that he'll leave. You're afraid that one day he'll be facing the wrath of a bullet, only he won't get through it like you did.

You did not deserve to survive that bullet.

But maybe this, here, with Castle, is why you deserve to live.

* * *

Kate looks up from your twined hands to stare into your eyes. They're wracked with anguish, and you have to resist to kiss her again, just so that she'd close her eyes and wouldn't look at you that way again.

"Will you… Will you ever leave, Castle?"

Her voice is so tiny. Like a little girl's.

Your tug on her hand to pull her closer, one arm settling on her hip. Look her in the eyes so that she can tell that you're telling the truth.

"No. Never."

"What if you can't help it? What if my job gets you into danger and you don't come home to me?"

She is your home.

How could you ever let anything come between you?

* * *

He leans down, presses the most chaste of kisses against the corner of your mouth. You breathe it in. Slowly. _Cherish this_. Cherish these moments. Life is short and someone out there wants you dead. Time is limited.

You close your eyes at the force of the thought. You try to ignore the images of Castle stretched out on the grass, bleeding onto your hands, your mouth not co-operating with you as you try to make the last words count, the way he did, the way he does so effortlessly, but you are not enough and then he's gone and he's not coming back, and all you have left of him is his blood and a study full of all the books he'd never written, all the stories he'd never told.

All of these things could happen. Yet he wants you anyway. You don't know if that's the most beautiful thing you've ever heard, or just reckless.

"Castle." You whisper, clutching his shoulder to keep him close. "Castle, what if you _can't_?"

* * *

What if you can't?

"Nothing lasts forever, Kate."

Words. They make such foolish anchors.

She presses her forehead against your sternum. Fingers spread wide against your heart. Her body curls like a comma, clause half-told.

"But… If it did, nothing would stop me from being by your side. You hear me?"

You reach down to tip her chin up so that she's forced to look you straight in the eyes. She stares and stares, as though she's waiting for intensity of your words to change, as though she's waiting for you to break your promises and walk away just like everyone else in her life. But that isn't true. And so she doesn't find it.

And so she smiles.

"Come with me, Castle."

* * *

He follows you without question.

You feel it bloom inside of you, the realisation, stretching its petals, unfurling. Free.

You glance over your shoulder momentarily and there he is. There he always is.

* * *

Oh. Wow.

Kate leads you to the most beautiful place you've ever seen.

It takes quite a while, trekking through places of the forest that don't have pathways, stumbling over tree roots and snapping twigs that make you jump. But it's worth it. Oh, how it's worth it.

She leads you to a clearing between some trees and here you are.

It's stunning. An open space, surrounded by a circular expanse of trees, almost crafted by the hands of mother nature herself. The grass brushes lazily against your ankles in the breeze, poppies and daises and lavenders, tulips and dandelions and bluebells. The faint humming of crickets; the twitter of birds; a butterfly fluttering its wings in the distance. It's not real. It's a dream. And then there- In the middle. A lake. A lone lake with floating lily pads and one lone swan floating gently through the water. All blanketed by a clear blue sky, the shining star that is the sun.

There aren't even any words. They've escaped you.

"I found this place when I was twelve." Kate tells you, and you begin to focus your attention on her, the way the light has found its way back to her eyes, the way those eyes of hers are even richer than the colours of this meadow. "I always came here when things were too much, when I needed to relax. Of course, then it was stupid things. An argument with my mother, school work… Boys."

She looks at you from the corner of her eye, smiling wryly. Your heart stutters.

"It just soothes all your worries. And as much as I love the cabin, it's homeliness, the lake there… I- I love this. There's nobody else around. Everything's just… Real."

"And people aren't?"

Kate raises her eyebrows. "People are just alternate versions of themselves in different circumstances. They play different roles: the mother or the lover or the girl next door. You didn't know the real me for a long time, Castle. Think about that."

"But I know the real you now?"

She tilts her head, curls tumbling around her shoulders. Eyes green.

"Yeah, Castle. You know the real me now."

* * *

He is in absolute awe of you.

It makes your heart clench, all blood pumping around your body stopping for this one minute second that he watches you, everything stopping.

He looks away, dropping your hand and walking to the edge of the lake, watching the water twinkle.

You watch him, the way the nature surrounds him, the way the sun beats down on his eyes and they're the lightest shade of blue you've ever known.

"Do I know the real you, Castle?" You call out.

He looks over his shoulder, smiling. Maelstrom of anguish gone.

"Like you even needed to ask."

* * *

Kate comes close to you, a hand raising to cup your elbow. You turn to her, finding her smiling, and then she holds out a dandelion for you, positioning it so that it's illuminated by the sun. Waits.

"Make a wish, Castle."

You close your eyes. _I wish her walls would keep coming down. _

The dandelion seeds flutter in the breeze and you think about all the new life you've created.

You open your eyes, find Kate smiling at you widely.

You don't need wishes.

You just need her.

"I love you." You tell her, because how could you hold it in?

It needs to be free. It needs to ride the wind like the dandelion seeds. It needs to spread until everyone knows. It needs to be caught in her hands and kept forever. If it were to ever be caged, it could only ever be within the sanctity of her own body, her own heart.

Kate's eyes crinkle at the corner when she smiles.

"I know."

Your heart thunders in your chest.

"What do you want, Kate?"

You'd give her anything.

"I want..."

Her answer sets you alight.

She doesn't give you false promises. She doesn't tell you how she wants to drop her Mom's case, to live peacefully. You both know you're worth more than that. But for now. This is enough. This is more than enough.

"I just want you, Castle."

* * *

You don't know how things are going to be when you go back to work. You don't know whether everything will be too much to handle. You don't know if the emotional scars will ever fade away. You don't know if you'll still be enough.

But here is what you do know: Castle has a freckle above his heart shaped like the patterns he traces into your coffee, and his lips are wet against your scar instead of his tears, and in this early autumn morning he smells like grass and ink and always all in one.

He is above you, filling the spaces in everything that is. He encompasses the sunlight through the trees, overpowers the sight of the blue butterflies nearby, the beauty of nature becoming him.

When he leans down and brushes his lips against yours, your heart stutters for a moment, eyes wide open and watching him. It is the singular most spectacular thing you've ever felt. His body aligning with yours. His lips so warm and loving. His fingers like ink and he is writing his words on your skin, your story.

In his blue eyes you can see the sky you did in another field, in another time.

He leans down and brushes his lips against yours once more and instantly that memory is forgotten. You keep your eyes wide open. He's staring back. You are beautiful. This is beautiful. We are beautiful.

So this is where your story begins: Lying in the grass with him, whispering the words _I Just Want You_ over and over again, until time forgets to exist, and your words turn into stardust.

Here is where it begins. Not with a bang, but with a whisper:

"I'm in love with you."

* * *

**The End.**


End file.
